


Tip of My Tongue

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childbirth, Children, Deception, Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Parenthood, Single Parents, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 165,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: Hermione's got a secret. One that only she and Narcissa Malfoy know. When she fell into bed with Draco Malfoy at a staff party, she never expected she'd end up pregnant. She certainly never intended for him to find out. Working in close quarters with him for five long years after her son's birth are a challenge, the urge to tell him sitting right there on the tip of her tongue. When Draco's wife, Astoria, is caught cheating and pregnant to another man, Draco must fight for custody of his son, Scorpius. Hermione, determined to ensure her son, Aurelian, grows up knowing his brother without Draco finding out, somehow winds up tangled into the middle of Draco's impending divorce. Can she help it if she also keeps finding herself tangled in his embrace, and dare she say, liking it?





	1. Prologue: 2001

****

**Tip of My Tongue**

_By Kittenshift17_

* * *

**Prologue: 2001**

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was a sensible woman. She liked things to makes sense and she liked them to be straightforward. She hadn't always been that way, but in the three years since the end of the war, she had discovered she liked things in her life to be uncomplicated.

And so, as she sat at her dining table having a spot of breakfast with her husband and her son before both men would leave for work, she was anticipating a sensible and uncomplicated day. Much like those that had come before it. She most certainly was not expecting the arrival of an unfamiliar screech owl with a small and celebratory bundle of blue balloons.

"Something you need to tell me, dear?" Lucius drawled at her lazily, eyeing the arrival the balloons with some trepidation glittering in his grey eyes.

Narcissa refrained from answering as she plucked the card attached to the bundle from its perch. The front of it read " _It's A Boy!"_  in gaudy and brightly coloured lettering of a truly unfortunate font. She ignored that, however, to open the folded card.

**_Dearest Narcissa,_ **

**_Some time ago you approached me with a request to contact you in the event that a certain circumstance should come to my attention. As you know, it is my job to ensure the proper record keeping of all magical births within the Wizarding world. Many years ago you asked me to notify you if your son, Draco, was ever listed as having fathered a child. As I hope is evident by my parcel, such an occurrence has come to fruition._ **

**_My humblest congratulations to you and your family during this special time._ **

**_Sincerely,_ **

**_Cantellopia Urquart_ **

**_Magical Births Registry and Trace Records Office_ **

**_Ministry for Magic._ **

"Narcissa?" Lucius asked again as Narcissa's eyes widened in horror. She crumpled the card quickly, refraining from staring aghast at her son. This was the very last thing they needed. Draco's betrothal to Astoria Greengrass had finally been agreed upon and already the plans for the wedding were well under way.

"Sent here by mistake, I believe," Narcissa lied to her husband smoothly, denying any knowledge of having a grandson. This couldn't get out. They would be ruined. Draco's betrothal; the Malfoys' ticket back in the good graces of pureblood society; all of it could be dashed should this little fact come to light. Drastic measures were in order.

"Oh?" Lucius asked, clearly sensing her tension.

"Zippet?" Narcissa called sharply and a little house elf popped into the room. "Remove these ghastly things from my sight and destroy them."

The elf nodded seriously, taking the balloons and disapparating with a crack.

"Now," Narcissa pasted a smile on her face and hoped her husband wouldn't notice it was less than sincere. Her son – the current cause of her horror – was glancing between the pair of his parents curiously. "Tell me about the day you both have planned?"

She worked hard to change the subject.

"The usual for me, Mother," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Hopefully there will be some exciting report of some creature sighting that needs to be dealt with or some new species discovered that I'll need to capture samples for to give to the Lab."

Narcissa eyed her son carefully. Since the war he'd completed his NEWTs and entered into a Ministry position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office. Narcissa hadn't been overly surprised by the choice of career for her son. Since his third year at Hogwarts when he'd been savaged by that Hippogriff, Draco had learned a good many things about magical creatures and how best to avoid antagonising them.

The only surprise she'd had to deal with was the fact that it seemed her son and Miss Granger shared an interest in magical creatures, though for wildly different reasons.

"By 'the lab', I assume you mean Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood, along with their band of study-minded drones?" Lucius drawled from the other end of the table.

"Not this week," Draco shook his head. "Lovegood's away on an extended study venture in the Americas and Granger's been on maternity leave for the past month."

"Maternity leave?" Narcissa asked sharply. "I don't recall you ever mentioning that Miss Granger was with child?"

"No one knew," Draco nodded. "She strolled into a work a month ago and requested maternity leave. We all had no clue she was even pregnant. She's been the same as ever, could barely even tell she had a bun in the oven, what with those frumpy clothes she tends to wear. Eight months pregnant and she merely looked like she'd pushed a flattened Quaffle up her shirt. It was like she just popped out to being pregnant overnight. I didn't believe her. Made her actually show me that it was her pregnant stomach and not some charm. That little sprog inside her kicked my hand when I touched her to confirm it wasn't a glamour, the bastard."

Narcissa felt dread pooling in her stomach and her heart had begun to race. No. Surely not. This couldn't be. Her suspicions must surely be false. Surely?

"Did she mention who the father was?" Lucius asked curiously, ever on the lookout for information he might use to later blackmail someone. "I was under the impression from the papers that she and Weasley went their separate ways almost a year ago."

"Yeah, they did," Draco nodded, "But she wouldn't tell me who was bonkers enough to climb into bed with all that hair. Don't think she rightly knows who the father is, to be honest. Or if she does, she's certainly not sharing it with the likes of me."

"Are you suggesting she's a trollop?" Narcissa asked, eyeing her son in the hopes that he would confirm the notion. That he would dash all ideas that she had coincidentally learned of the birth of her grandson and of Hermione Granger's pregnancy on the very same morning.

"Never known her to be," Draco shrugged again. "But someone had to shoot that quaffle through her hoop."

Lucius began to laugh at his crudeness.

"Must you be so crass, Draco?" Narcissa asked.

"Sorry, Mother," her son apologised, though his smirk suggested he was far from sincere.

"What about you, my dear?" Lucius asked her. "What do you have planned for your day?"

"I'm feeling the need to have my nails done," Narcissa answered smoothly, rather enjoying the sly smile her husband and her son shared. They knew she was curious about Miss Granger's pregnancy and believed she would be seeking gossip on the topic. Which she would. But it certainly would not have anything to do with simpering fools who liked to pass on titbits of information over a French manicure.

"I'm sure that will be lovely, darling," Lucius purred at her, getting to his feet as he finished his breakfast. "Do let us know all about it this evening, won't you? Draco, my boy, we best be going or we'll be late."

Draco nodded and Narcissa rose as well, kissing her son's cheek before kissing her husband's lips and bidding them both a lovely day. As soon as they left the house, Narcissa Malfoy flew into a frenzy. Dressing hurriedly, she was on her way to St Mungo's hospital within the hour. She had not returned to the maternity ward of the hospital since she'd delivered Draco more than twenty years ago, but Narcissa remembered the way.

She scanned the hall quickly, her eyes coming to rest on Room 14, where the name  _Granger_  was spellotaped to the chart outside the room. Narcissa listened cautiously before entering, ascertaining that there was no one inside who might hear her questioning the new mother. Stepping carefully into the room, Narcissa locked and warded the door, silencing the room to keep from being overheard.

Hermione Granger lay in the bed with her newborn babe cradled in her arms. Narcissa's eyes leapt to the baby, a boy, barely registering that Miss Granger was in the process of coaxing the child to breastfeed.

"I'll be with you in just a moment…." Miss Granger called cheerfully, clearly not at all concerned by the interruption or fearful of being caught with her breast exposed for the purpose of feeding her son. Begrudgingly, Narcissa rather admired her courage.

When the new mother managed to get her little tyke to latch onto her breast and begin to suckle she looked up with a welcoming smile that died instantly at the sight of her visitor. What little colour she had in her cheeks drained away and Narcissa felt a sense of dread begin to pool in her stomach.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa nodded her head in greeting, standing tall and stalking a few paces closer.

"Mrs Malfoy?" the new mother asked, looking fearful. The sudden blush in her cheeks told Narcissa everything she needed to know. "Not meaning to be rude, madam, but what are you doing here?"

"I was rather hoping to hear the story about how you came to be nursing my grandson, Miss Granger," Narcissa replied evenly and the girl looked faint.

"You… how do you… I mean, I never told…" she stammered nervously. She looked a frightful mess. Her hair all in a tangle of curls and her eyes slightly sunken from the strains of pregnancy and birth

"You confirm then, that Draco is your son's father?" Narcissa asked, straightforward and in no mood for nonsense. This was not turning out to be at all like the simple and uncomplicated day she'd planned on that morning from the warmth of her featherbed.

"Please don't tell anyone," the girl begged, her eyes wide and horrified. "I've not told a soul the truth."

"You don't wish to make some claim to the Malfoy fortune?" Narcissa asked, frowning now.

"No," the girl shook her head vehemently. "I don't want any trouble, Mrs Malfoy. I know Draco's betrothed to Astoria and the last thing any of you wants is some interloper with his spawn showing up and destroying things. I don't want anyone to know Draco is Aurelian's father. I've not told a soul. Not even Draco knows."

"Do tell how you came to be pregnant with my son's child without his knowledge?" Narcissa asked, a small sense of relief coursing through her at the girl's panic and her obvious fear of having anyone learn her child was Draco's son. Narcissa – while insulted on her son's behalf – understood the girl's concern. The types of people she associated with would not be welcoming of the son of Draco Malfoy.

"Well, there was that charity do at the Ministry nine months ago," Miss Granger replied, blushing crimson. "And you see, I'd broken up with Ron three months prior, and we'd not seen much of each other. He turned up that evening with a new woman on his arm and I'm afraid I took it rather badly. I had a little too much champagne and well… Draco and I work together, as I'm sure you know, and naturally he was in attendance as well. He was rather upset about his impending nuptials to Astoria, actually. He had a few too many as well and… I don't know how it happened, really."

The girl blushed crimson to be having such a discussion with her and Narcissa sighed. She recalled Draco had been rather put out over having to marry around that many months ago. He wasn't thrilled with the prospect of an arranged marriage and though he had since settled somewhat about it, Narcissa knew he'd been devastated by the idea of an arranged betrothal. She suspected he'd hoped to find a loving marriage like the one she shared with Lucius.

"Anyway, I woke up in his townhouse in London early the next morning and I panicked," Hermione went on with her story. "I knew he'd had too many to remember what we'd done, so I just grabbed my things and ran. I saw him at work the following day – mortified as I was – and he showed no signs of recollection so I breathed a sigh of relief. And then two months later I discovered I was pregnant. Having not been with anyone but Draco since I'd broken things off with Ron, it wasn't hard to work out who Aurelian's father must be."

Narcissa sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. This was not at all how she'd planned to spend her day and most certainly not how she'd hoped to learn of the conception and birth of her first grandchild.

"You have no intention of telling Draco?" Narcissa asked bluntly.

"No," Granger shook her head vehemently. "I mean no offence, Mrs Malfoy, but no one can know who his father is. Aurelian will have enough trouble having only a single mother, but he will be even less accepted by my lot if they know Draco is his father. I know your family has been working to put things to rights, since the war and all, but well…"

"Indeed," Narcissa agreed, needing no further explanation that the likes of the Weasley clan were hardly going to be thrilled with the girl for having broken up with their son and promptly gotten herself pregnant at all, let alone pregnant with the next Malfoy heir.

"There is also the betrothal between Draco and Astoria to consider. He might've been put out about it months ago, but I don't want to upset things and my understanding is that he's come to accept the arrangement. And I've met Astoria – she's a lovely woman, albeit a little cold… I'd hate to upset anyone over this. I considered, you know, handling the problem, but the idea has never sat well with me. When I didn't miscarry I… well, I took it as a sign," Granger told her, frowning with concern. "You're not going to tell Draco, are you?"

"No, Miss Granger, I have no intention of informing my son that he is unknowingly a father. I came here intent on confirming my suspicions and on buying your silence."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," she shook her head. "But how did you know?"

"Many years ago, a contact of mine in the Births Registry office was paid off to ensure no such surprises would escape my notice," Narcissa waved her fingers at the frivolous details. "She wrote to me this morning congratulating me on the birth of my grandson."

"Oh no! I forgot about the Trace registry," Granger despaired, her eyes going wide with fear. "Oh, how am I to keep the truth from my friends if they can access the registry? They're public record, anyone can view them."

"Leave that to me," Narcissa smiled tightly. "In the meantime, what are we to do about this?"

Narcissa found her eyes straying to the little boy in Granger's arm. He already had a head of thick, curly blond hair in the brightest shade of white. So bright in fact that he appeared almost to glow beneath the hospital lights.

"Oh, I suppose I ought to introduce you," Granger blushed. "He is your grandson, after all. Narcissa Malfoy meet Aurelian Nicholas Granger."

"Aurelian?" Narcissa asked recognising the name of a star and shrewdly watching the girl. Anyone with half a brain knew that those belonging to the Black line named their children after constellations. And Miss Granger certainly had more than half a brain.

"I know," Granger shrugged. "It's a little unorthodox, but I've always liked the name."

"Indeed," Narcissa said again, privately approving the idea of her first born grandson bearing a name befitting his bloodline – even if he was just a half-blood. "I have your word then, that this will not get out? You will not come seeking anything of my son and foiling his betrothal? You will not demand he be a part of Aurelian's life?"

"Mrs Malfoy, if I have my way, I will take this secret to the grave," Miss Granger informed her sternly. "As it is, I would very much appreciate you keeping it to yourself."

"I'm particularly good at secrets, Miss Granger," Narcissa smiled slyly then. "In any case, I will handle the mess at the Registry. It has been magically inputted that Aurelian is the son of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. I will appropriate those records for safe-keeping and modify the memory of my contact there. You will take these and raise my grandson properly."

"I can't accept your money, Mrs Malfoy," the girl protested, eyeing the bag of Galleons with distaste and Narcissa knew then that the girl was indeed going to be true to her word. She would not seek out money or recognition from Draco for Aurelian. The idea insulted her.

"Very well," Narcissa answered, privately planning to stop by Gringotts and ensure that money was deposited into Miss Granger's vault for her silence and for the purpose of properly raising Narcissa's grandson.

"Oh, bugger!" the girl suddenly exclaimed, lurching out of the bed and Narcissa, who'd been about to make her exit, turned back to her, concerned.

"Could you hold him for just a minute?" the girl was babbling. "The birth wasn't conducive to my bladder at all."

Before Narcissa could protest she found her arms cradling her tiny grandson while his mother rushed to the bathroom. Narcissa looked down into the sleeping face of the small boy, and she was loathe to admit that her heart melted as it hadn't since she'd first held Draco. Narrowing her eyes in the direction of the bathroom over the sly move, Narcissa realised now that she had no choice.

She would be in her grandson's life. Even if he was the illegitimate son of Hermione Granger and her Draco. Even if he was a half-blood. Even if he might never be properly recognised as a Malfoy heir. Narcissa lifted the tiny bundle higher, breathing in the scent of newborn babies and feeling her heart wrap around the child completely.


	2. Chapter 1: 2006

**Chapter 1: 2006**

* * *

"Aurelian!" Hermione Granger called to her five year old son from the garden of the Harry and Ginny Potter. The blond, curly-haired boy was playing in the yard with his cousin, Teddy Lupin but he paused in his game to heed his mother.

Hermione smiled at her son, beckoning him closer. He and Teddy both came running.

"What is it, Aunt Hermione?" Teddy asked, sporting hair that was identical to Aurelian's white-blond curls, but for the turquoise fringe hanging in his eyes.

"Aurelian and I have to be getting home, Teddy," Hermione told the boy, ruffling his hair and wrapping an arm around both little boys, leading them back towards the house.

"Oh, do we have to Mummy?" Aurelian protested.

"Can't Aurelian stay the night with me, Aunt Hermione?" Teddy pleaded, looking up at Harry with hopeful eyes that he might convince Hermione to let Aurelian sleep over.

"Come on, sport," Harry said, scooping the eight-year-old boy up and propping him on his hip. "You know Aurelian and Aunt Hermione have an important dinner to get to tonight."

"Oh," Teddy sighed while Hermione picked up her son, cuddling him close.

"You'll see us again tomorrow, Teddy," Hermione promised. "You're coming over for a sleepover, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Teddy grinned. "Can I bring my broom?"

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," Hermione promised the boy. "Now, you two run inside and wash all that mud off before we go."

She lowered Aurelian again, who tore off after Teddy, nearly bowling Ginny over as she came out the back door.

"We've been meaning to talk to you, Hermione," Harry grinned, reaching for his wife's hand and kissing the back of it.

"You're pregnant!" Hermione accused Ginny, pointing at her.

"You knew?" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"No, but I know that happy glow! You're pregnant, oh congratulations, you two!" Hermione exclaimed, wrapping the happy couple into an embrace while Harry began to laugh at her enthusiasm.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny bounced happily on the balls of her feet.

"Well, come on, tell me everything! When are you due?" Hermione wanted to know, genuinely thrilled for her friends. Ginny and Harry had been trying for a baby for months now, she knew, and she'd consoled Ginny every month when her period came again and she wasn't pregnant.

"I'm only just ten weeks," Ginny told her. "We haven't told anyone else yet."

"Oh, I'm so happy for both of you!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm going to be an Aunt again. Unofficially of course. Oh, Ron and George will be over the moon for you two. Have you told Teddy?"

"Yeah, he's excited to have a little brother again. You know he considers Aurelian to be his sibling," Harry nodded, smiling widely and looking rather proud of himself and his godson. Hermione kept to herself that while they played together and loved each other like brothers, Aurelian Granger and Edward Lupin were actually second cousins.

"Aurelian adores Teddy," Hermione nodded. "He's going to be devastated when Teddy goes to Hogwarts in a few years."

"By then he'll have some little brothers of his own to play with," Ginny grinned, rubbing her stomach. "When should we expected your next child, my dearest friend?"

"Probably never," Hermione laughed. "You know I actually prefer being single and who could I possibly convince to date me when they learn I'm a single mother of a five-year-old who doesn't know the identity of my son's father?"

"I still can't believe you don't know," Ginny exclaimed. "Did you check with the Trace office at the Ministry?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "His certificate was stolen. I told you that."

Hermione didn't mention that it had been stolen by Narcissa Malfoy. There were lots of things she didn't mention when it came to her son. Including who his paternal family was, how she was able to pay for everything they needed and live so comfortably – thanks to the money Narcissa continued to put in Hermione's vault every month, despite Hermione's protests – and what had become of his birth records.

"Why would anyone steal his records?" Ginny wanted to know. There was a crash inside the house suddenly and Ginny sighed before hurrying in, ending the conversation to discover what Teddy and Aurelian had broken this time.

"You know, one of these days, you're going to slip up, Hermione," Harry warned her, his tone light.

"Slip-up?" Hermione asked, blinking at her best friend.

"I've known you for fifteen years, Hermione Granger," he reminded her. "I know you better than anyone. I know that you know exactly who Aurelian's father is. I know you're probably behind the records going missing at the Ministry – or that you know who is behind it. There is no way the Hermione Granger I know was able to end up pregnant with a child whose father she didn't know. And if by some terrible twist of fate that did happen, I know you'd never have left the topic alone until you knew exactly who that boy's father was."

"Are you accusing me of lying, Harry Potter?" Hermione asked mildly.

"Yes," he answered. "And your continued untruths on the subject suggests that not only do you know who his father is, you also don't want anyone to find out. I can work out by doing the math when it was that you fell pregnant, Hermione. I know you did something foolish the night of that do at the Ministry when Ron turned up with his first flame after you."

"But you don't know with whom?" Hermione asked carefully.

"Not yet," Harry agreed. "But I will find out. Things would be easier if you would just tell me."

"I can't do that, Harry," Hermione sighed.

"Do you honestly believe it could be bad enough that I would think less of you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"You wouldn't," Hermione shook her head knowingly. "But everyone else would. I can't tell."

"What are you going to do when Aurelian starts asking questions about who his Dad is?" Harry wanted to know. "I know he already asks and you tell him he doesn't have a Daddy. What will you do when he's old enough to know that he has to have a Dad somewhere out there in the world."

"When he's of age, I'll tell him the truth," Hermione shrugged. "But until then the closest thing to a Dad he has is his godfather."

She nudged Harry's shoulder then, smiling softly at the black-haired man who'd been her best friend since their first year at Hogwarts.

"He'll ask me one day too, you know?" Harry told her. "And what am I going to say? Ask your Mum? I don't know buddy, your Mum never told anyone?"

"Yes. Exactly those things," Hermione nodded. "I can't tell anyone Harry. Aurelian's father is my secret."

"Let me ask you this then," Harry said. "Are you hiding it because his father is a married man? And doesn't know he's Aurelian's father?"

"Yes, to both," Hermione answered. "He is a happily married man and no, he has no idea that Aurelian is his. He has no recollection of ever shagging me."

"Did you modify his memory?" Harry pried, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I didn't need to," Hermione shrugged. "He was more intoxicated than I was, and I snuck out of his house before he could wake the next morning. Please just leave it alone Harry. I'm happy with the way of things for me and Aurelian. He doesn't need a father. He has you and a swath of Uncles to be his father figures. You're doing a better job than his real father ever would."

"He's a shoddy bastard then?" Harry said, clearly fishing for clues.

"I didn't say that, but given that he's happily married man, I doubt he'd be thrilled over learning he has a son with me. More to the point, his potential rejection of Aurelian could hurt my son and I won't have that," Hermione told him, before glancing at her watch. "I need to get going."

"Fine, look I didn't want to upset you, Hermione. I just want to see you happy. With this kid on the way, and with everyone else having kids of their own and getting hitched, I don't want you to feel left out. Don't let having a child ruin your chances at finding someone, alright?" Harry told her.

"But I don't need someone, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "I have a wonderful son whom I love more than anything. He's enough for me."

Harry gave her a small smile, and Hermione could tell he didn't understand Hermione's urge never to contact the father of her son. He simply didn't understand the amount of complications that could unfold if Draco Malfoy ever learned he'd sired a child with Hermione Granger. Hermione would admit that there were times when she'd wanted to tell Malfoy.

She worked with him every day when she'd gone back to work at the end of her maternity leave. It had been hard sometimes not to exclaim excitedly over her son's first words, or how he'd learned to crawl and then to walk. When he'd learned to talk and then to ride the little broom Harry had given him as a toddler, Hermione had been bursting at the seams with the urge to blab about it to Malfoy in full detail.

She had simply learned how best to deal with it. She shared the milestones of her son's young life with the rest of her colleagues, often in Malfoy's earshot. He might never know he'd sired her son – he might never know he was listening in on the wonder of his son's development. But Hermione slept better at night knowing that though he wasn't aware of Aurelian's existence as effecting him – he was subconsciously absorbing the information about his son nonetheless.

For Hermione, that was enough.

That, and the fact that every week Narcissa Malfoy insisted on imposing on Hermione for tea. The Malfoy matriarch had unnerved Hermione to begin with. When she'd arrived in Hermione's hospital room five years ago looking determined, Hermione had feared the woman somehow knew of Draco's involvement in Aurelian's conception. She'd feared Narcissa might try to take over and steal her son away.

None of those fears had come into fruition. As long as Hermione kept her mouth shut about the identity of her son's father, Narcissa was pleased as punch. She was also rather attached to the boy – doting on him like any Grandmother. When she came round for tea, she always insisted on being addressed only as Mrs Malfoy – but Hermione could sometimes catch love glinting in the proud and stern woman's eyes.

They both adored Aurelian, and Hermione knew that though things had been mildly awkward in the beginning, the pureblood woman had soon thawed enough that they often held polite and stimulating conversation. Hermione had learned that Narcissa Malfoy was a terribly intelligent woman and that she was well versed on literally everything. As such they often held philosophical debates and discussions – sometimes even digressing to outright arguments when they disagreed on things.

If Hermione was honest, she believed she'd found a friend in the older woman and she was entirely grateful that Narcissa was in Aurelian's life. The running commentary she'd held in the early days on how Aurelian differed or mimicked things Draco had done had delighted Hermione. She was both pleased and concerned at times by the number of things father and son had in common without even knowing each other.

Just last week she'd caught Draco pulling on his left ear whilst lost in thought, sitting at his desk when she'd needed additional data from him on Gnattering Newts. It was something she often found Aurelian doing when he tried to work through a word problem or math equation in his early-learning books. Something Narcissa found entirely too amusing.

"Are you ready to be on our way, Aurelian?" Hermione asked her son as she entered the house and found both Teddy and Aurelian in the kitchen being wiped down by Ginny, both of them covered in what looked like spaghetti sauce.

"Yes, Mummy," Aurelian nodded. "I'm sorry about the sauce, Aunt Ginny."

Hermione smiled at her well-mannered child. Narcissa had insisted – and Hermione had agreed – that he must be taught proper manners from the cradle. He always said thank you and he always said please.

"That's alright, Aurelian," Ginny smiled at the little boy.

"Did you pull it off the stove?" Hermione asked the boys sternly. Teddy and Aurelian both hung their heads in shame.

"We wanted to see what was cooking," Teddy admitted apologetically. "I'm hungry, Mum."

"I know you are, Squirt," Ginny told him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I'll have dinner on the table in just a minute. Give Aunt Hermione a kiss goodbye."

Hermione knelt down to receive the wet kiss on the cheek from Teddy, giggling when Aurelian rushed over and kissed her other cheek.

"My two handsome boyfriends," Hermione pretended to swoon. "Spoiling me with affection."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Aunt Hermione," Teddy grinned, winking at her. Hermione laughed and nodded, scooping Aurelian up in her arms and kissing his cheek in return.

"I'll be by around three to pick him up, alright?" Hermione asked Ginny, smiling at the red-head. "And congratulations again. I'm so pleased for you."

Ginny hugged her spontaneously as Harry came into the kitchen at a run, scooping Teddy up from behind to the boy's delighted shouts as he was boosted to Harry's shoulders. Hermione watched them fondly while Ginny laughed with delight. A terrible pang hit Hermione in the chest as she looked at their happy little family which would soon be extending into a larger one.

She'd always imagined in her teens that she would have a big family. She'd daydreamed that she would marry Ron and they would have a herd of children. But that had been long ago. Before Aurelian was born. Before she and Ron had discovered they weren't at all compatible as a couple. They simply liked different things. Ron wanted simple, down-to-earth and relaxed in a woman. Not that his taste in the women he dated these days reflected that fact.

Hermione believed she was those things but she knew that at times she could be high-strung. Not in the sense that she was a snob or a bitch. Just that she often let herself become so immersed in her work that she forgot about things like needing to make Ron happy. Her focus and her career ambition had always been a sore spot with him and Hermione had found that talking to him was sometimes boring. She didn't care much for Quidditch talk and she grew annoyed when he didn't listen as she tried to fill him in on whatever new creature she was studying or which new legislation she was drafting.

Now she had Aurelian and none of the other things she'd dreamed about. She didn't have a husband or even a boyfriend. She'd found most men were either interested in dating her as a result of her war-heroine status or because she knew Harry Potter. Others balked when they learned she had a child. There had been one three years ago, who'd stuck around for six months, but Hermione had discovered him cheating on her and claiming he didn't get enough nookie from her because she was always working or caring for Aurelian.

Since then Hermione had been single and contentedly so. It was only every now and then that she craved a boyfriend or a husband. Aurelian had plenty of father-figures in the Weasleys and in Harry and Neville. But none of them tucked him into bed at night or greeted him with a cheek-raspberry in the mornings. No one tucked her in on the nights when she'd had a rubbish day either.

Pasting a pleased smile on her face, Hermione took her leave of her friend's happy home, Flooing back to her suburban residence in Haslemere. She owned an acre and a nice house there where she and Aurelian lived comfortably. For a time Hermione had lived in London when Aurelian was a baby, but Narcissa had insisted that little boys needed room to run and play. She also insisted Hermione would need space for Aurelian to learn to fly and to perform accidental magic without being spotted by muggles. It wouldn't do to have his Trace being investigated – especially with the records missing.

A wealthy Aunt's untimely death had provided the opportunity three years ago. Hermione – her Aunt's only niece and thus, her heir – had inherited a small estate. She'd sold some of the land, not really needing such extensive space, but she'd kept the house and the gardens.

"Run upstairs and change your clothes, Aurelian," Hermione told her son as she set him down. "Put those ones out to be washed please. Mrs Malfoy will be here in twenty minutes."

"Yes, Mummy," her son replied solemnly before tearing through the house in search of new clothing.

"Mistress?" Hermione's house-elf, Della, asked as she popped into the room next to Hermione. Much to Hermione's annoyance, Narcissa had insisted that every Malfoy heir – including the illegitimate ones – must own house elves. She'd also refused to hand over the ability for Hermione to free the elf, not surrendering the elf's contract to Hermione when she learned Hermione would free the creature if she had the chance.

"Evening Della," Hermione sighed. "Is tea on? Mrs Malfoy will be arriving shortly."

"Everything is ready, Mistress," Della smiled, wiggling her large ears, "And young Mr Aurelian is putting his things out for Della to wash."

"I should bathe him, actually," Hermione realised.

"Is you needing Della's help, Mistress?"

"Could you help me catch him?" Hermione asked the elf seriously. Aurelian loathed bath time. No matter how well-mannered her tiny gentleman might usually be, bath time was his trigger. He transformed from a delightful little boy to a child from hell, tearing about the house and screaming bloody murder.

"I will trick him, Mistress?" Della offered.

"Yes, do that," Hermione nodded. "Tell him there's a spider in the bathroom you want him to see before you take it outside. I'll sneak in and trap him."

The elf smiled as Hermione hurried off through the house.

"A SPIDER?" Aurelian could be heard shouting from his bedroom and Hermione looked on as he raced out of the room in only his under-things, chasing Della into the bathroom. Hermione strode after him, closing the door behind her with a snap and locking them both in the bathroom before vanishing the door handle so he wouldn't be able to escape. Again.

"No!" Aurelian yelled immediately when he saw her and realised he was trapped. "No, Mummy! No bath! I had one yesterday! I don't need one today!"

Hermione lunged for him before he could begin climbing things to flee her wrath while Della began to fill the bath tub.

"NOOOOOOOO! Aurelian shouted shrilly, almost deafening Hermione as she caught her young son in her arms and cuddled him close, trying to hang onto him while he writhed like a live wire, beating at her back with his tiny fists in outrage.

"Aurelian!" Hermione said sharply. "That's enough, you're already in the tub and all wet. And you got all messy playing with Teddy. Do you want Mrs Malfoy to believe you a dirty little urchin?"

The boy was now splashing water everywhere, kicking and screaming, trying to flee. He never cried – tears were only for hurts from her son – but he did fight like a Blast-Ended Skrewt. She managed to divest him of his under-things and ended up soaked herself by the time he settled into the water. He glared at her hatefully when she got shampoo into his hair. He always gave up as soon as she actually got the shampoo in his hair or the soap on his body.

"I hate bath time," he whined, sitting with his arms and legs crossed in a tiny fury as she lathed the shampoo into his hair.

"I know, sweetheart," Hermione told him, smiling. "But if you want to play rough and get all dirty, you have to bathe. Those are the rules."

"Why do I have to bathe?" Aurelian pouted. "Why can't I just stay dirty sometimes?"

"Because if you do that, one day you'll be so dirty that things will grow on you. Do you want that?" Hermione warned him. "Little cabbages growing under your arms and nettles behind your knees?"

Aurelian looked horrified by the very idea.

"Will Mrs Malfoy bring me a present today, do you think?" Aurelian asked innocently, clearly horrified enough by her answer that he decided to change the subject.

Hermione smiled. Narcissa tended to spoil her first grandson terribly and Hermione knew to some extent that it was out of guilt over not being able to spend more time with him. Draco and Astoria Malfoy had a little boy of their own these days – a three year old named Scorpius – and Hermione knew Narcissa felt bad that Scorpius was doted on by his father and his grandfather. Neither of whom knew that Aurelian existed as their firstborn son and grandson, respectively.

"She might, sweetheart, but you mustn't be disappointed if she doesn't. Her company is gift enough, don't you think?" Hermione told him.

"I like when she talks to me," Aurelian told her. "She tells good stories. And she always has sweets."

"Well, you can't have any sweets if you don't eat all your dinner, alright?" Hermione asked. "Close your eyes, love, so I can wash the shampoo out."

Aurelian did what he was told, squeezing his eyes closed and waiting for Hermione to pour warm water over his head to rinse the subs out of his thick blond curls. They were as unruly as Hermione's had ever been, and she'd had to let them grow a little bit long – hanging to the end of his nose when they got wet – as a means of controlling the blond afro he sported if she cut his hair any shorter.

Narcissa disapproved, of course, trying to insist Hermione should slick his hair back for him – as she'd evidently done to Draco before he'd turned up at Hogwarts and realised it made him look like a ponce. Hermione had refused on the grounds that the curls would never cooperate to be slicked back and that if they did, he would resemble Draco entirely too much and she'd be caught out. Already, Hermione had to lie about where he got his blond hair from. She'd lied to everyone and told her it must be a carryover from her own father – who she'd lied about being that white-blond in his youth. He hadn't of course. Her father's hair was as curly and as brown as Hermione's.

But her friends didn't know that. They'd never had the chance to meet Hermione's father – who had passed away in a car accident when Hermione had sent him to Australia during the war. Her mother knew Hermione lied about his looks, but when Hermione had explained her reasons for doing so and her yearning to protect Aurelian, Jean Granger had agreed to the untruths.

"Alright sweetheart, arms up," Hermione told Aurelian, soaping up a sponge and beginning to bathe him with it. He hated bathing so much that he was never very thorough unless she scrubbed the five-year-old herself. She would have to work on it, she knew, because he was beginning to reach the age where he should be bathing on his own.

Aurelian obeyed, sliding from one end of the bath to the other and sloshing water everywhere. Hermione let him, even though it made washing him slightly harder – knowing he would throw another tantrum about bathing if she stopped him. She'd tried before. And much like his father, Aurelian Nicholas Granger could be an extremely bratty and pouty boy if he didn't get his way.

"Are you ready to hop out now?" Hermione asked the boy.

"Do I have to?" he asked, still splashing about.

"Mrs Malfoy will be here in five minutes," Hermione told him. "Why don't you go and put on your nice robes – the blue ones she bought you – and we'll see if she notices that you're wearing them."

"Okay," Aurelian grinned and Hermione lifted him out of the bath, drying him quickly with a towel. He waited impatiently to be dried and Hermione laughed at him when he raced for the door – naked – and pounded on it until she conjured the doorknob once more. As soon as he could open it, he tore off down the hallway into his bedroom. Hermione waved her wand at her own clothes to dry herself off after having been soaked by him in his fury and his fun.

She glanced it the mirror, wincing at the sight of her own curls tumbling loose and unruly. She didn't bother trying to fix them. At this point it was better to just let it curl however it liked. Narcissa had seen her looking worse and Hermione had had a long day of research after sending Malfoy and Mullens out after a new sub-species of Grindylow that had turned out to be highly venomous.

She'd actually landed Mullens in St Mungo's and Malfoy hadn't escaped entirely unscathed either when he'd been set upon a new species of water snake they'd discovered by accident. He hadn't needed the hospital as the snake had proved non-venomous, but he'd decided that the best means for transporting the creature when Mullens was in such poor shape was right where it had already decided to be – constricted around his throat.

She'd spent much of the afternoon arguing with Malfoy about the proper sedation and transportation of magical creatures; with Luna about whether or not it was a rainbow serpent (a spiritual deity amongst Australian Aboriginal peoples that debatably existed only in that region) and with Malfoy some more about the fact that there was undiscovered species in the region that needed further investigation. Hermione had been forced to magically bind him to her office chair when he'd been ready to charge off in search of other new species' in the area even though he'd been bleeding from the face and arms where the snake had bitten him and had been sporting painful looking bruising on his throat where it had constricted him.

And then she'd had to argue with the head of the department – Rolf Scamander – about the proper treatment of colleagues and procedures to be followed when it was suspected said irrational colleagues had been poisoned by the creatures they'd been wrestling.

"Do I look alright, Mummy?" Aurelian wanted to know, dashing out into the living room where Hermione was setting out tea for herself, Narcissa and Aurelian.

"Oh, don't you just look dashing, Aurelian?" Narcissa Malfoy could be heard as the sudden roar of the Floo subsided.

"Mrs Malfoy!" Aurelian cried happily, hurrying forwards to greet the older woman before he stopped suddenly as a blond haired little boy stepped out from behind Narcissa. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the sight of Scorpius Malfoy in her living room and peering at his elder half-brother curiously.

"Aurelian, sweetheart," Narcissa began. "I'd like you to meet my grandson, Scorpius. Scorpius, darling, this is Aurelian Granger."

The little boys stared at each other for a moment in silence, both clearly curious about the other and Hermione watched them with simultaneous feelings of happiness and trepidation.

"Aurelian, say hello to Scorpius," Hermione commanded her son quietly.

"Hello, Scorpius," Aurelian managed, walking closer. He seemed to suddenly remember his manners and moved forwards to offer Scorpius his hand to shake – like a proper gentleman. Scorpius, at just three years old, looked puzzled but stuck his hand out nonetheless. He missed Aurelian's hand, but Aurelian moved his own to accommodate and shook his half-brother's hand for the first time.

"Aure…" Scorpius tried to pronounce it, looking up at his grandmother in confusion.

"Aurey will do," Aurelian offered the younger boy, smiling. "You want to play Quidditch with me?"

He took the other boy's hand and led him over to his toy-box in the corner. When they reached it, Aurelian suddenly released the boy and dashed back over to Narcissa.

"I forgot to say hello to you, Mrs Malfoy," he apologised, smiling sheepishly.

"No matter, dear, you were preoccupied with your new friend. Give me a kiss and then why don't you show Scorpius your figurines?" Narcissa suggested, bending down so Aurelian could kiss her cheek in greeting. He did so before dashing back over to Scorpius and beginning to play.

"Is that a good idea, Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione asked, greeting the woman with a polite brush of cheeks – as Narcissa had begun insisting upon some three years earlier after she'd broken the news to Hermione that Aurelian was to have a half-brother in Scorpius.

"They had to meet sometime, Hermione," Narcissa informed her seriously as they both sat down while Della hurried over and poured their tea. "It wouldn't do to have the boys never know one another. Especially when they will overlap for five years of schooling at Hogwarts. In any case, I had to bring Scorpius with me this evening. Lucius is, as you know, out of the country this week on business. And after Draco's mishap today, he and Astoria are rowing."

Hermione nodded her head slowly, glancing over at the boys in the corner. They were painfully alike in their appearance. She couldn't deny that it was obvious they must be related.

"That's going to become a problem," she murmured watching her son and Astoria's begin to play with the Quidditch figurines Harry had given Aurelian for his last birthday.

"Their similarities?" Narcissa asked. "Yes, I had suspected it might be. I believe it makes more sense to have them know each other from a young age so they will be friends and so be less put out when they learn the truth later. As for their similarities being so obvious, it's mainly their hair that's the most obvious one. Which you said you've been explaining with vague references to your deceased father."

"I have. But look at them. It's more than just hair colour. They're of a similar build, and they've both got those grey eyes. It will be clear for all to see that they're brothers. Especially as they get older. Imagine them at Hogwarts together. Anyone with a brain will know."

"Not necessarily," Narcissa offered. "Very few people would believe you and my son had had an affair at the time of Aurelian's conception – at all really. From the stories each of you share about the other and the arguments you have at work, anyone would be hard pressed imagining Draco to be Aurelian's father."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't think so. She and Malfoy might not be friends, but they could be amicable and polite enough with each other when called for. Of course they could also have terrible rows at the office about him interfering with lab work or poking holes in her theories, or her insisting on being shown the habitat of some new or existing species he brought in. Then there were the constant rows about paperwork. Malfoy was a horrid bastard about turning in his paperwork with his findings in any kind of timely fashion and Hermione never let him off the hook about it when she needed it for her research or for drafting legislation.

"Yes, well," Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "It's not entirely inconceivable, given that it's actually the truth. Also, Harry knows… well, not  _knows_. But he knows that I've been lying about not having the foggiest of who Aurelian's father is. He doubts my ability not to have pursued the matter until I knew the answer. He accused me of being behind Aurelian's missing records too. It will only be a matter of time – especially if he ever meets Scorpius – before he works out that all this trouble is to keep the world from knowing Draco is Aurelian's father."

"Discourage the idea," Narcissa commanded, her shrewd gaze fixed on Hermione. "There's something else I've been meaning to share with you, Hermione."

Hermione braced herself, knowing that Narcissa only ever spoke to her that way when it was going to be something dreadful that would upset Hermione.

"Draco and Astoria are expecting another child in sixth months' time," Narcissa informed her primly and Hermione closed her eyes. Of course they were. It wasn't that Hermione resented or envied Astoria. She might've learned to tolerate Draco but Hermione certainly didn't fancy the man. Even if he was the father of her son. Though that did lend him some tolerability she might not have extended to him otherwise.

"How wonderful for them," Hermione smiled politely at the older woman before sipping her tea carefully.

"I am not so sure," Narcissa disagreed, her lips pinching, "I love both of my grandchildren very much, Miss Granger, as I'm sure you know. Any children of Draco's will be adored by me…"

Hermione sensed her hesitation. She'd spent five years learning to tolerate and read Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione recognised her hesitation and her concern. Recognised the way the woman was debating whether or not she should go on.

"You believe there is a chance the child Astoria carries might not be Draco's?" Hermione guessed quietly and Narcissa's eyes narrowed at her shrewdly.

"You believe there might be some reason that it could not be?" the older woman asked, confirming Hermione's suspicions. The elder woman always answered a question with a question when she didn't want to admit to something but wanted information about it nonetheless.

Hermione sipped her tea again, considering her answer carefully. She didn't want to cast doubt on Astoria's loyalty to her husband incorrectly and she didn't want to come between Narcissa and Astoria. Hermione already knew that though the woman had used the Greengrass family to get the Malfoy's back in good graces with the wizarding world, she was not overly fond of Draco's bride. In fact once or twice the woman had let slip vicious little comments about Astoria that suggested she tolerated her daughter-in-law as a polite gesture alone.

"It's hardly my business," Hermione hedged. "But I do recall a whisper about the Ministry last year casting some doubt on Astoria's fidelity to Draco… a mere hint, of course, and sparked by a picture taken at that charity ball for St Mungo's you hosted, you recall?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes further.

"At the time, I dismissed the notion as being vicious gossip. Every time I've witnessed Astoria and Draco's relationship they've seemed devoted to one another. And a silly picture of a laughing woman – recently a mother, no less – sharing a polite drink with a man not her husband, is hardly a crime."

"Pucey, I recall?" Narcissa asked, clearly checking her facts.

"Indeed," Hermione agreed delicately. "But Adrian Pucey is a married man with a delightfully beautiful and lovely wife. Katrina is a lovely lady and it must be said, I suppose, that for all that Astoria is a beautiful woman, Katrina is fairer."

Narcissa looked thoughtful at Hermione's answer.

"My Draco is much more handsome than young Mr Pucey as well," Narcissa sniffed. "The girl would be a fool to be straying. She gets not a dime if she is caught in infidelity, too."

Hermione nodded again, it had been one of the first topics of conversation they had shared when Narcissa had told Hermione all about the planning of the wedding between Draco and Astoria and when she'd told her all about the prenuptial agreement she'd had drafted on Draco's behalf.

"And if he is found to be being unfaithful as well?" Hermione asked, wondering about that.

"A delicate matter that Astoria was concerned about and that I made sure was airtight after…." Narcissa trailed off and her gaze strayed to Aurelian and Scorpius across the room. "Should Draco be caught consorting with any woman not the mother of his child, he will be required to divorce Astoria and hand over half of everything he has. As such, I've been very careful about the way the estate matters have been handled, ensuring Lucius remains majority holder until his death."

Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink at Narcissa's delicate choice of wording. She didn't need to ask to know that the shrewd Malfoy matriarch had worded her sentence and probably the prenuptial just so. Meaning that if Draco were ever caught with Hermione herself, he would not lose half his fortune to his wife.

"And should it be learned that Draco has more than one woman who holds the claim of mother to his son?" Hermione asked and Narcissa smirked wickedly at her, clearly pleased she'd understood what she meant. "Not that there would ever be call for such delicacy on my account."

Narcissa's smile turned sly then and Hermione didn't at all like to imagine what the woman might be thinking. A few months ago Narcissa, in a tizzy over Astoria's apparent shallow nature, lamented the idea that it was Astoria and not Hermione herself who was her daughter-in-law. She hadn't spoken a word about Hermione's blood status. In fact, she had all but told Hermione that she wished it had been Hermione who was Draco's wife because she at least had some sense.

"Do you believe my daughter-in-law is conducting an affair, Hermione?" Narcissa asked her finally.

"I don't know her well enough to comment, Narcissa," Hermione replied evenly. "I would like to assume she would not be so foolish or so cruel, but one never truly knows what another is capable of until they reveal themselves culpable."

Narcissa nodded slowly in agreement and sipped her tea before shaking her head a little and changing the subject to discuss the row Hermione and Draco had had that day.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Two weeks later, Hermione was running late to work. Ginny was ill, Harry was working, and Andromeda was visiting with Narcissa – the sisters having tentatively reconnected after the war. She'd taken Teddy with her to meet his Great Aunt and as such Hermione had been unable to find anyone to watch Aurelian. She'd thought of asking Ron or another of the Weasleys, but she didn't entirely trust Ron with the boy.

Not that he would ever harm Aurelian. Merely that Ron was still a little resentful of Aurelian as evidence that Hermione had been with someone after him – as though he wasn't with some new flame every other month. As such, Hermione had been forced to bring Aurelian with her to work and so she was running late. She held his hand tightly as she ran through the Ministry, the boy running easily enough at her side given that his mother was wearing heels and a pencil skirt that day for an important meeting about redrafting the werewolf rights legislation.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Hermione asked Aurelian as he trotted along next to her. He'd brought his toy dragon with him and he was wiggling it in his freed hand as they ran, making roaring noises occasionally and clearly pretending they were flying.

Aurelian roared in response to her question and Hermione laughed. Leading him quickly into her office, Hermione conjured up a chair for him to sit on.

"Sit here and play, Aurelian. I need to go over my notes before my meeting in twenty minutes, alright?" she told the boy, fixing him a cup with some juice in it before she went to her desk to read over her notes. She was nervous about the meeting. She'd had some luck thus far in her drafting of the proposal to de-register all werewolves except those with confirmed criminal activity to respect their privacy. She was now pushing for the fair right to work, refusing the allowance of dismissing or firing employees simply for suffering lycanthropy.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione took Aurelian's hand and led him into Luna's office.

"Good Morning, Luna," she greeted the blonde woman.

"Oh hello, Hermione. All set for your meeting?" Luna smiled before her gaze drifted to Aurelian. "And is that Aurelian Granger?"

"Hi, Aunt Luna," Aurelian grinned at her, waving his dragon at her.

"Just what have you got there, Aurelian?" Luna asked. "A new species of dragon you'd like to tell me all about? You need me to watch him while you have your meeting, Hermione?"

"Would that be alright? Ginny's ill and Andromeda was busy this morning, so I had to bring him in. My meeting shouldn't be longer than an hour," Hermione said, wringing her hands together and glancing at Aurelian – who had walked over to Luna's desk and began tramping his dragon over the cluttered surface.

"Of course, I'll watch him," Luna beamed. "Go on now, or you'll be late for your meeting."

Hermione moved over to kiss the top of Aurelian's head.

"Be good for Aunt Luna, sweetheart," she told him sternly. "I'll be back in an hour. Don't go wandering off, alright?"

He nodded, roaring again as he went back to his game. Hermione sighed before she hurried off to her meeting. She had to meet with Adrian Pucey – the man in charge of the classifications of magical maladies – regarding her werewolf legislation.

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" a female voice shrieked from behind the closed door of Pucey's office and Hermione paused before she knocked.

"HOW SHOULD I KNOW?" she heard Pucey shout back at the woman, followed by the sound of a crash and some muffled arguing.

Hermione bit her lip and looked at her watch. She was two minutes late for her meeting and she didn't want to postpone. Not that he'd been in the best of moods, apparently. Clearing her throat, Hermione rapped smartly on the door.

"What?" Pucey growled, snatching the door open a few moments later before he blinked at her in surprised.

"Granger?" he asked, blinking at her again.

"Morning, Pucey," she greeted him with a polite smile. "I'm here for our meeting…."

His eyes widened slightly as though he'd completely forgotten.

"Oh… right. Yes. The meeting. Erm, do come in. Astoria was just leaving," he said, opening the door wide and inviting her inside the office. Hermione's eye twitched when she caught sight of Astoria Malfoy.

The slim brunette woman was inside the office and Hermione's gaze twitched to the fact that her usually spotless and perfect attire was ever so slightly off kilter – her skirt sitting just the tiniest bit crooked. Her bright red lipstick was also just the faintest bit smeared at the corner of her mouth. So, it was true then. Astoria Malfoy was having an affair. Not that Hermione was going to let on that she knew.

"Astoria, how lovely to see you again," Hermione smiled politely at the woman. Working with Draco meant Hermione saw the other witch quite often and though they weren't friends, they were cordial with one another.

"And you, Hermione," Astoria's smile didn't reach her eyes and her cheeks had gone pale beneath her make-up. "I was actually on my way out. Adrian. Hermione. Always a pleasure."

She took her leave quickly and Hermione turned her attention to Adrian Pucey, noting the slight redness of his lips as though he'd recently had to rub off some tell-tale red lipstick. She pursed her lips for a moment before she smiled as though she didn't know anything about his private business and launched into her presentation for the meeting.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco Malfoy ran his hand through his hair as he worked on filling out the latest incident reports from his most recent expedition, just knowing Granger would be at his throat for them if he didn't get right on them. He was in the middle of the section pertaining to habitat of the Warbling Gerbil-Newt when the sound of a child's giggle drew his attention. It was the second time he'd heard the sound and Draco startled when he glanced towards his office door to see a mop of white-blond curls and a pair of grey eyes peeking over the top of his desk.

He was sure his heart stopped in his chest at the sight. He'd never believed himself or any in his family to have Seer tendencies, but there could be no other explanation for the boy's presence. He blinked slowly, wondering if this was some mirage. Was the boy an apparition of the child Astoria had informed him she was carrying? The boy giggled again as he peeked over the desk, clearly worried about being scolded as though he knew he wasn't supposed to be in Draco's office.

The sight of a toy dragon – a replica of a Welsh Green – appearing in the child's hand on the edge of his desk made Draco smile a little. Scorpius had a dragon just like that one. The boy waddled the dragon over Draco's desk carefully, being sure not to upset any of his paperwork, before both the boy and the dragon disappeared. Draco blinked in surprise before the sound of little feet pattering against his floor could be heard and Draco jumped slightly when the boy tore around the desk at top speed, an imitation of a dragon's roar spilling from his lips as he sent the dragon soaring.

The toy had been charmed to fly for short distances when thrown, gliding gracefully over to Draco's side table. Draco blanched when he recalled that was where he'd dumped his hunting gear – including his knife – when he'd got back yesterday and he hurried to his feet to intercept the boy as he ran over and climbed up on the table to retrieve the dragon.

He was taller than Scorpius, and older.

The boy laughed as he scooped up the dragon and roared again as he jumped from the top of the table – where he'd climbed to stand – onto the floor again. Draco reached for him instinctively, noting how much the boy looked like Scorpius and reacting automatically to the actions his Scorpius often committed. Draco was just a bit too slow to catch the boy, but the child didn't react at all to being missed. He landed neatly on his feet and tore back across the room.

Draco spun to watch him, wondering if he was dreaming. When the kid threw himself into Draco's desk chair – which had wheels – and sent it skidding towards the far wall whilst still roaring like a dragon, Draco could only smile.

"Aurelian?" a female voice called from somewhere beyond the office, disembodied and convincing Draco further that he must be dreaming or having some kind of vision. Aurelian. The name of a star. Just like every Malfoy bore.

"Mummy?" the boy shouted, a wide grin crossing his face even as Draco's chair crashed into the wall with a thump.

The kid didn't care, tossing himself right back out of the chair before he ran out of the room, making a zooming sound and waving his dragon about wildly. Draco followed him into the hall, blinking in confusion when he spotted Hermione Granger coming down the hall. A grin lit her face as the kid tore towards her at a full run and she braced her feet apart. Draco watched in silent intrigue, his eyes wide and surprised as Granger caught the tot and scooped him up, using his momentum to throw him high in the air over her head before she caught him again.

The child – Aurelian – laughed gleefully and wrapped his hands around Granger's neck, peppering her face with kisses and walking the toy dragon over the tops of her shoulders while she laughed and kissed his forehead in return. Draco didn't understand. He stared at them in confusion, realising with a jolt that the boy wasn't an apparition at all. He was Hermione Granger's son.

And he looked like Scorpius.

Well, sort of. His hair was longer than Scorpius's and impossibly curly. He was clearly older than Scorpius too and Draco recalled that Granger had a son. He'd be right about Aurelian's age, too.

"And where did you come from, young man?" she asked him before glancing over at Draco.

Draco was staring at her wide eyed.

"Aurelian, were you bothering Mr Malfoy?" Granger asked the boy, her cheeks paling at the sight of him.

"Who?" Aurelian asked. Granger turned the boy in her arms and pointed at him.

"Oh. Yes. I was playing in his office," Aurelian told her truthfully.

"What have I told you about wandering off?" Granger scolded. "Why aren't you with Aunt Luna?"

"She got distracted when Mr Scamander came in," the tot told her, "And I snuck away to play. My dragon wanted to play in that man's office."

Draco saw the kid point at him.

"I've told you not to bother other people when I bring you to work with me," Hermione scolded him quietly. Draco just stared at them gobsmacked. She offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Malfoy, I hope he didn't disturb you," she offered politely.

"I was doing paper-work, so you don't jump down my throat," he managed to find his voice. "I can't say I minded being interrupted… this is your son?"

"Oh… yes. Aurelian, this is Mr Malfoy," Granger introduced him to the tot. "Draco, this is my son, Aurelian Nicholas Granger. He's five."

"How old are you, Mr Malfoy?" Aurelian asked, squirming in Granger's hold until she put him down before he hurried over and took Draco hand, shaking it firmly. Draco eyed him, wondering if he'd gone mad.

"I'm twenty-six," Draco told the child honestly, slightly baffled by the forward question.

"Mummy's twenty-seven this year," Aurelian informed him solemnly. "Mummy, is Mr Malfoy related to Mrs Malfoy?"

"You've met my wife?" Draco asked, frowning now.

"Your mother, actually," Granger told him. "Yes Aurelian, Mrs Malfoy is Draco's mother."

"Can I call him Draco?" Aurelian asked.

"It's impolite to call adults by their first name unless they give you special permission, like Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny do," Granger informed the child and Draco blinked at the sight she made with the tot propped on her hip when Aurelian returned to her, climbing her silently until he was comfortable. She was dressed nicely today, wearing a fitted navy pencil-skirt with a high waist line and a loose-fitting red blouse with three-quarter length sleeves, tucked into the skirt. Draco noticed idly as she held the child that she didn't bother trying to hide the word 'mudblood' scarred upon her forearm.

She also looked sexy as hell, if he was being honest. Her hair was pulled up into a neat bun, some soft curls having escaped about her face. She'd donned some make-up today, no doubt for her meeting with Pucey about werewolf rights. Somehow, she seemed even more appealing with the young boy propped on her hip. She was clearly comfortable in her role as a mother and unafraid to also be career driven and ambitious despite having a tot.

Draco felt sick with himself over his thoughts as he eyed the witch and her son. He was a married man, it was true, but hell if Granger wasn't one of the hottest witches around. Draco had privately thought so for a long time. Since before the war, in fact, though he'd never admitted to it. She drove him bonkers on a daily basis in the office when she was riding him about paperwork or drilling him about whatever species she was focusing on that week.

Secretly, Draco never minded. He rather enjoyed the fact that she was so driven about it and that she pushed so hard for the answers she needed or wanted. She actually made him better at his job, and he appreciated that she was as interested in Magical Creatures as he was. She had the whole angle about rights, rather than just the fascination with the creatures that he had, but that was neither here nor there.

"But if Mrs Malfoy is his mother, and he's Mr Malfoy, and he said he has a wife, she'll be Mrs Malfoy as well… this is very confusing," the tot was explaining to his mother why he ought to be allowed to call him Draco and he found himself smirking at the kid's logic. Definitely Granger's child.

"I know, sweetheart, but it's impolite. Would you want Mr Malfoy to think you impolite?" she asked him.

"No," the kid sighed, playing with his dragon some more.

"He didn't make a mess in your office, did he Malfoy?" Granger asked him then, turning her attention to him.

"No," Draco shook his head. "Though he climbed up on the side table where I keep my hunting gear… and he appropriated my chair as a means of dragon transportation."

"Skidded it across the room by throwing himself into it at a run?" she asked knowingly and Draco grinned.

"How come you get to call him Malfoy while I have to say Mr?" Aurelian wanted to know and Draco smirked.

"You can just call him Malfoy if you want to, Aurelian, but it's not very polite. I call him Malfoy because we were in the same year at Hogwarts and because we work together every day. People who are the same age don't call each other by their formal title. That would be like you calling Teddy 'Mr Lupin'."

"But I call him Teddy, not Lupin," the kid protested.

"Yes, but that's because you're his best friend."

"Mr Malfoy's not your best friend?" the kid asked and Granger's cheeks brightened to pink.

"No darling, Uncle Harry is my best friend," she informed the child.

"Is Malfoy your friend?" Aurelian asked at her and Draco watched the witch carefully for her answer. He rather wanted to know that too. They dealt with each other on a daily basis, screamed at each other like husband and wife at times – at least according to Luna. Of course, given the way Draco had been screaming at his own wife recently, he didn't appreciate the commentary from Lovegood.

"Not like you and Teddy are friends, sweetheart. We're work friends. People who have to deal with each other and have to be nice to each other, but don't seek each other out just for fun."

"So Uncle Harry is your friend like Teddy is my friend and Mr Malfoy is your friend like… Molly is my friend," the kid summarised, showing he was clearly Granger's if he was clever enough to work that one out at five.

"That's right, darling," Granger nodded, smiling at him. "We spend time together when we have to."

"I don't like having to spend time with Molly. Does that mean I can start calling her Weasley?" Aurelian wanted to know.

Granger winced and then sighed.

"If you must, but that might hurt her feelings, Aurelian. Molly likes you and thinks of you as her friend," Granger told him.

"She throws things at me and Teddy when we try to play with her," Aurelian argued and Draco found himself ensnared by mother and son.

"You and Teddy pulled the heads off all her dolls the last time she let you play with her," Granger told him and Draco smirked at the notion. Seemed the rug-rat was quite the trouble-maker. Draco would bet he didn't get it from his mother, either.

Just as that moment Draco's attention was drawn by the sight of his wife clicking towards him in stiletto heels, his son Scorpius balanced on her hip carefully.

"Astoria?" he asked, his eyes jumping to Scorpius in her arms before bouncing back to Granger holding Aurelian and Draco felt what little colour he had drain from his cheeks. Bloody hell, they looked similar. Draco hated himself a little when he viciously thought that Granger looked better with a child on her hip than Astoria did. It wasn't that he didn't love his wife, it was…. Well, that he didn't  _love_  his wife. He tolerated her and he was even rather fond of her, but he wasn't wand over broom in love with her.

"Hey Scorp," Draco grinned at the sight of his son when the tyke spotted him. Draco noticed idly as he reached for the child that he was also clutching a green dragon just like the one Aurelian was playing with on Granger's shoulder.

"Scorpius?" Aurelian said suddenly, drawing their attention and Draco looked over at Granger to see she'd lost all colour. "Look Mummy, it's Scorpius."

"Yes, Aurelian. Did you say hello?" Granger asked.

"You know Scorpius?" Draco asked the kid as he took his son from his wife, propping him on his hip.

"Hi Aurey," Scorp waved at the other kid.

"Hi Scorpius. You have a dragon just like mine!" Aurelian said excitedly, waving the dragon and nearly clobbering Granger with it. Draco actually did get clobbered when Scorpius copied the older boy and waved his dragon too.

"Oi, watch it, kid," he told his son.

"Sorry Daddy," Scorpius apologised, not looking all that repentant as he continued to wave his dragon at Aurelian, who had begun to make roaring sounds again.

"Mummy, if Mr Malfoy is Scorpius's Daddy, and he's Mrs Malfoy's grandson, does that mean that Malfoy is Mrs Malfoy's son?" Aurelian asked curiously between roars and Granger smiled widely at her child's ability to understand family units.

"Yes, Aurelian it does. Malfoy is Mrs Malfoy's son and Scorpius's father," Granger told the child.

"Granger, just how is it that your son knows my mother and my son?" Draco wanted to know, entirely confused now by the casual way that her boy discussed his mother.

"Oh…." Granger said, and Draco noticed idly that her cheeks turned pink. "Well, you see, your Mother and I took tea together a few weeks ago and she brought Scorpius with her."

Draco frowned at that, trying to remember when his mother had taken Scorpius out or if she had mentioned having tea with Granger.

"I don't remember her telling me about this," he informed the woman.

"It was the evening after that snake fiasco when I had to bind you to your chair," Granger prompted.

Draco frowned further. He remembered that day. He'd nearly died. He'd also had another row with his wife. And his mother had mentioned taking Scorpius out for a little while, knowing that Draco didn't like the boy to see his mother and father rowing.

"I must have missed it when she mentioned it…" he offered, silently making a note of needing to question what his mother was doing taking tea with Hermione Granger.

"Yes, well," Granger said with a mildly strained expression. "When one's attention is otherwise distracted, one misses a great many things."

Draco wondered if he imagined the way Granger's gaze was suddenly pointed rather accusingly at his wife. He knew he most certainly didn't miss the way Astoria's head snapped up and she levelled a glare at Granger.

"Draco, I need to speak with you," Astoria said seriously and Draco glanced at her. From the look on her face and the way she was glaring at Granger, Draco had a feeling it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. He glanced at Scorpius – who was currently trying to get out of his arms to play dragons with Aurelian.

Astoria glanced at the boy as well, recalling his rule about not rowing in front of their son.

"If it's a conversation not fit for little ears," Granger interrupted, seeming to sense the tension growing between Draco and his wife. "Then I can watch Scorpius for a little while. They're only going to be naughty if we separate them now – what with an important game of dragons to be played."

Draco hedged for a moment, glancing at the squirming boy in his arms who was desperately trying to reach Aurelian.

"Are you sure, Granger?" he asked, feeling terribly guilty for even considering the idea of allowing Scorpius to be watched by Granger so he could fight with his wife.

"It's really no trouble, Malfoy," she told him, coming forwards with a smile and reaching one-armed for Scorpius. Draco noted the way his son – usually a shy and rather reserved boy – went right to Granger, suggesting she'd been telling the truth about having met the lad before now.

"Besides," she went on, taking the toddler from his arms easily and barely swaying under the weight of two young boys who were now roaring at each other and using her hair as a nest for their dragon toys. "If you take him in there, you'll end up with Aurelian sneaking into your office again the minute he thinks I'm not paying attention."

Draco's eyes widened slowly as she stepped back with his son propped on her left hip and her son propped on her right. They were so eerily similar that Draco felt a wave of dread crash over him. If he weren't so sure that he'd never shagged Granger, he'd think they could be brothers. Their hair was the same shade of platinum blond that his had always been. Aurelian's was wildly curly and longer than Scorpius's, but it was the same shade of white-blond. They bore a similar build, too.

The sight of both boys in Granger's arms made something inside Draco squirm and he didn't want to examine it too closely. In the years since the war, he'd learned to admire the feisty witch and for a time – before he'd been married – he'd even wondered if he'd begun to fancy her. Oh, he didn't, of course. He was a married man, but he wasn't incapable of seeing her appeal. Which he found odd, given how few men she seemed to date.

"Boys, really?" she chided the children. "Is my hair really the best place for a dragon nest?"

She was laughing as she began to turn away, carrying them both towards her office.

"It'd be better if your hair wasn't up, Mummy," Aurelian informed her. "Then it really would be a nest."

"Aurelian Nicholas Granger that was not a very nice thing to say," she scolded though she was laughing.

"Oh, Hermione?" Astoria spoke up suddenly and Granger turned back to raise her eyebrows at Draco's wife.

Astoria's expression was sharp and rather cruel as she eyed the muggle-born witch.

"Who did you say Aurelian's father was?" his wife asked innocently, feigning curiosity and Draco realised with a jolt that she'd noticed the similarities between their son and Granger's too. The pit of dread inside him opened a little wider and he frowned slightly at the unspoken argument the witches seemed to be having with their eyes.

Hermione Granger, however, was not so easily intimidated, especially not by the likes of Astoria Greengrass. Draco watched the way she looked his wife dead in the eyes, smiled sweetly and said,

"I didn't."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Hermione was seething as she entered her office and lowered both boys to the ground, allowing them to run around her office wildly. She'd closed the door to keep them from disturbing anyone else with their roaring as they tore around the room, hurling their dragons, bashing them together and inventing wild games.

She sat down at her desk, being sure to put stoppers in all her inkwells and put them away in the drawer so they couldn't be accidentally broken and spilled by unruly playing children.

"Della?" she called softly and the elf popped into the office in her pretty pink pressed uniform that Hermione had insisted all elves be provided. It had taken her four years once she'd joined the Ministry to push elf-rights through – and most of the problems had come from the elves themselves – but she had finally managed to convince the elves that as long as their uniforms were made from pillow case material, they weren't actually suggestions of freedom and would allow the elves to more effectively do their job when she'd showed them the importance of pockets.

"Mistress?" Della asked, her eyes darting to Scorpius and Aurelian.

"Could you bring us a pot of tea, Della, and maybe some sandwiches?" Hermione asked tiredly. "I was running late this morning, as you know, and I didn't get a chance to prepare anything. Enough for me, Aurelian and Scorpius please?"

"Of course Mistress. Della brings," the elf told her before popping out again.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose tightly before realising she was imitating Narcissa Malfoy entirely too much as she did so. Blast Astoria Malfoy and her meddlesome comments. How dare she ask who Aurelian's father was? In front of Aurelian, no less! Hermione glanced over at both boys in the corner, playing together. The similarities in their appearance were entirely too obvious and she knew Draco had spotted them.

Hermione watched the half-brothers, feeling a little smile pull at the corners of her mouth despite her bad mood. She was actually rather pleased that Narcissa had insisted they meet and learn to like one another. Not just because it meant that days like today were slightly less awkward, but also because it was nice for Aurelian to know and enjoy the company of his younger brother. And Hermione could not deny they were brothers.

Oh, she would. Vehemently, if need be.

But it was nice, in her opinion, that they were friends. She knew Narcissa had wanted them to know each other for the same reason and also because she'd told Hermione that Scorpius was a rather shy little boy who didn't get the chance to socialise with many other children his age. None of Draco's other friends had children yet, though Hermione had heard a rumour that Pansy Parkinson-Zabini was expecting a child later in the year.

Nevertheless, the boy needed to know how to play with people his own age – or close to – and it would do him good. More to the point, he was a darling child. Hermione could admit that. She'd actually grown very fond of children in general since she'd become a mother, and she could not deny that much as she adored Teddy Lupin and Aurelian, little Scorpius was fast winning a place inside her heart. Being Aurelian's half-brother was certainly working in his favour too.

Even if he was a Malfoy.

Sighing heavily, Hermione wondered what she was going to tell people who saw them together and recognised that they were so similar. She'd have to think of something. Otherwise she was afraid the game might be up.

Della popped back into the room carrying a tea tray laden with cups, a teapot and little plates of sandwiches.

"Oh, thank you, Della," Hermione said to the elf, smiling indulgently. "Would you like to stay and join us?"

"Mistress?" Della asked, her eyes welling with tears and Hermione knew the poor thing was still having trouble with accepting such treatment from her. Conjuring a smaller child-size table to serve the tea and the food on, Hermione placed everything onto it, conjuring a few cushions for the boys to sit on. She climbed out of her office chair as well, sitting on one on the floor while Della very timidly sat upon the fourth one.

"Aurelian, Scorpius, come over here and have some lunch with me please," Hermione called to the children.

"Food?" Aurelian asked, grinning. "Come on Scorp, Mummy's got food."

He gave the younger boy a slight shove to get his attention before both boys came running over, their toy dragon's in tow. Hermione smiled when Aurelian stopped halfway towards her as Scorpius lost his balance slightly. Her son stooped to help the younger boy to his feet once more, holding his hand the rest of the way and Hermione had never been prouder.

Hermione summoned one of the spare sippy-cups she kept in her office drawers over by the wall from when Aurelian was younger. He no longer needed them very often but sometimes it was simply easier to let him use one so she kept one on hand for such occasions. Filling it with tea that she cooled to a tepid and more suitable temperature, she offered it to Scorpius.

"Fank you," he said sweetly, smiling toothily at her as he accepted the cup and brought it to his lips.

"You're very welcome Scorpius. Aurelian, sweetheart, this one is your tea. Sit down please, so you don't spill it," Hermione told the child, watching as he did what he was told. He already had a jam sandwich in one hand, feeding his face with it ravenously.

She had to hide her laugh. He had perfect manners when it suited him, but if he was hungry and given finger-food they went right out the window. At least he still chewed with his mouth shut. Most of the time.

"Scorpius, would you like a sandwich?" Hermione offered the younger boy when he sat down beside Aurelian at the little table, settling himself on the cushion next to his older brother. He was eyeing Della very curiously, clearly unused to seeing house elves. Especially when they were sitting at the table and eating with the humans.

"Yes pwease," the boy murmured softly, holding his hand out for one as he was too short to reach it from his cushion. Aurelian reached across the table and almost spilled his tea as he snagged one up and gave it to Scorpius.

"Della, won't you have something?" Hermione asked the elf, who was timidly sipping her tea and eyeing Scorpius very nervously

"Yes Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," the elf said, clearly uncomfortable beneath Scorpius's curios gaze. When she was at home with Hermione and Aurelian, she was used to being treated like an equal, but it was clear she was not sure how to act in front of company.

"Is Dewwa an elfs?" Scorpius asked, nibbling his sandwich.

"A house elf, yes," Hermione smiled at the boy, "Della is a very dear friend to Aurelian and I."

Della's eyes welled with emotion as Hermione described her that way.

"At my house, elfs don't eat wif us," Scorpius said, looking puzzled.

"No, I don't imagine they do," Hermione replied. "But you have a very big house, don't you Scorpius."

"Daddy calls it a Manor," the little boy told her, nodding his head.

"I've been there before. It's very impressive. Do you like your house, Scorpius?" Hermione asked the boy.

He nodded his head.

"Mum, can I got to Scorp's house?" Aurelian wanted to know. "Like I go to Teddy's?"

"Maybe, Aurelian," Hermione said softly, knowing it was most likely a lie. Narcissa wouldn't at all like that. Not when it would mean Lucius would meet the lad. Hermione didn't know what she told her family she was doing every week when she came to dinner with Hermione and Aurelian, but she didn't think it was the truth.

They ate their sandwiches in silence after that until a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Hermione called, still sitting on the floor with the boys and Della. They were munching through their sandwiches happily.

Expecting it to be Astoria come to collect Scorpius and not much wanting to see the woman, nor to see Scorpius go, Hermione was surprised when instead the door was opened by a peeved looking Draco Malfoy.

"Daddy!" Scorpius cried, waving a hand sticky with jam at his father.

"Hey Scorp," Malfoy managed a smile for the boy and Hermione felt slightly nervous as he closed the office door behind him once he'd entered. That didn't bode well. He only ever closed her office door when he wanted to ask her something he didn't want anyone to overhear or when he meant to shout at her about something.

"Will you be joining us for tea and sandwiches, Malfoy?" Hermione asked rather than commenting, wondering if the proud and regal Draco Malfoy would lower himself to sit on the floor with children, a mudblood and an elf.

He nodded slowly, moving over and looking grateful when she conjured him a cushion next to Scorpius. Della looked terribly embarrassed as he joined them, fixing himself some tea and grabbing up a sandwich.

"Where's Mother?" Scorpius asked his father, tugging on his sleeve with his sticky hand. Draco winced at the jammy print it left on the white fabric.

"She's gone out for the afternoon, Scorp," Malfoy told the kid. "Getting her nails done."

Hermione caught the way he rolled his eyes.

"Want to play more?" Aurelian asked Scorpius when most of the sandwiches were gone.

Scorpius nodded, smiling widely before both boys got to their feet and moved off, beginning to play some more. Hermione eyed them for a moment before glancing over at Malfoy. She felt something inside her squirm as she found him watching her closely.

"Something you want to tell me, Granger?" he asked quietly, watching her over the top of his tea cup. Hermione's stomach flipped and her heart began to pound inside her chest.

Her cheeks began to warm as a blush climbed her neck and stained them crimson. She didn't dare look at Aurelian and Scorpius as they played. Surely he didn't know or suspect. Surely.

"Erm…. About what?" she asked, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

"Astoria was demanding to know what you'd been telling me before she arrived," he replied evenly. "So, tell me Granger, what is it that you know about my wife that has her acting so nervous?"

A mental sigh of relief poured through her and the tension in her neck subsided a bit as she breathed out slowly. He didn't know. He hadn't noticed the similarities between both of his sons. Across the room they boys were roaring again and Hermione glanced at them as Aurelian took a running leap, launching himself into her office chair and skidding across the room while Scorpius clapped delightedly.

"What could I possibly know about Astoria?" Hermione evaded, realising the woman must've been concerned that Hermione had ratted her out about being in Pucey's office earlier that morning. Hermione wondered suddenly where Scorpius had been while she was shouting at, and possibly snogging, Adrian Pucey.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked, Granger," Malfoy drawled in response but there was a tightness in his shoulders as he watched her over the little tea-table. "However, it seems there are a good many things you know about my family that I did not expect. If you won't tell me what you know about my wife that has her so worried, perhaps you'd like to share regarding the tea you took with my mother?"

"Actually, your mother and I are friends," Hermione informed him primly, settling for the half-truth on that front and grateful for the offer of a different topic. She did not at all want to go getting between the affairs of a colleague and his wife. Hermione had no further doubts that Astoria Malfoy was indeed pregnant and that she was carrying on an affair with Adrian Pucey. She wouldn't be surprised if the child she carried was Pucey's.

However, it was none of her business and it certainly wasn't up to her to tell Draco that his wife was cheating on him. She would inform Narcissa, who would undoubtedly arrange something terrible to befall Astoria – at least once a paternity test was conducted.

"You and my Mother?" Malfoy asked, raising one smooth golden eyebrow. "You're telling me that you and my mother are not simply acquaintances, but friends? Narcissa Malfoy?"

"My, my Malfoy," Hermione clucked her tone at his disbelieving tone. "If I didn't know better I might think you were making reference to my blood status and your mother's snobby pureblood attitude."

"You claim to be her friend and call her a snob in the next breath?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh please, everyone knows she's a snobby pureblood. Most importantly, Narcissa knows it. That, however, does not change the fact that your mother and I are friends. We happen to share an interest in the political climate, in reading textbooks on obscure forms of magic, in wandlore, and in your recklessness in the workplace."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly realising she could be telling the truth.

"You and my mother are friends? The two of you take tea together?" he asked, incredulous now.

"Indeed, we do," Hermione nodded, "I find her company very intriguing. That is how she knows Aurelian and how Aurelian knows her. It's also how our sons met."

Hermione took a gulp of tea as she realised she'd just said  _our_  sons. She hoped he wouldn't notice.

"I don't believe it. She never told me she takes tea with you. I was under the impression the two of you barely knew each other," Malfoy said, leaning back a little and staring at her as though confused and intrigued by the answers she was providing.

"I'm sure she doesn't bring it up. I doubt Lucius would be overly pleased by the notion. However, after attending so many of those balls and charity events she holds, in addition to all of the functions she personally hosts, we became friends. Actually, I've been helping her arrange some things for the upcoming charity dinner she means to host at the Manor to raise money to go towards the continued reconstruction of Hogwarts. She wanted my opinions on the type of menu and requested I look over the guest list and alumni to ensure that everyone has the chance to contribute."

Malfoy blinked at Hermione in shock.

"You're telling me that my Mother, Narcissa Malfoy, asked for your opinion on one of her events?" he asked doubtfully. "Granger, my mother never asks the opinions of others for her events. She is notorious for it, in fact."

"No, Draco," Hermione disagreed with what she felt was a very Narcissa-sounding tone and smile. "She doesn't ask the opinion of you, Lucius or any of her frivolous friends amid pureblood society. That would not at all do. She loves throwing her events and more importantly, she loves to surprise everyone who attends them with lavish and thoughtful ideas. Which would not be so easily achieved if she asked opinions from just anyone."

"You're telling me she asks your opinions, takes your council  _and_  trusts you to keep her secrets?" he scoffed now, and Hermione felt a sly smile that was entirely Narcissa's influence slipping across her face.

She had found during the past five years that it was impossible to keep the company of the woman – who was sophisticated, intelligent and aristocratic even at her worst – without assimilating some of her traits and quirks. Especially those that Hermione admired.

"Sweet merlin, Granger," Malfoy said at the sight of her expression. "You even look like her when you do that. Stop it!"

Hermione laughed throatily.

"You'll find, Draco Malfoy, that your mother and I are very good at keeping each other's secrets," she informed him politely. "Now, enough of that. Tell me about the Jabberwalkie I've had you hunting."

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You mean to distract me with talk of work when you've been sitting on secrets about members of my family?" he asked. "Do you think I've forgotten that little comment you made about missing things. What is it you know about Astoria? What secrets are you and my wife keeping? For that matter, what secrets is my mother trusting you with?"

Hermione could see he was clearly concerned. She opened her mouth, though she was unsure what she meant to tell him. And she was cut off by the feel of two toy dragon's suddenly burrowing into her hair.

"Scoundrels!" she cried, spinning on the tiny boys and catching hold of both of them before they could escape. Aurelian and Scorpius squealed to be in her grip and Hermione roared like a ferocious dragon before dragging Aurelian to plant a kiss on his cheek. She didn't even think about it before she gave Scorpius the same treatment, pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek.

"Mum!" Aurelian groaned, wiping his cheek where she'd left lipstick marks on both boys.

"Didn't anyone warn you that I'm a fierce kissing dragon?" she asked him, grinning at her son.

"Does this mean we're your prey?" Aurelian asked, still rubbing at his cheek before reaching over and wiping at the lip mark on Scorpius's cheek too. What were big brothers for?

"Yes, and you better run as fast as you can or I might strike again," she warned them playfully before she began blowing air kisses and gently pulling them closer. Both boys shrieked, struggling out of her loose hold and running away across the room.

"Just what have you done to my son, Granger?" Malfoy asked, eyeing her like she was barmy when she glanced back at him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning a little and glancing at both boys, wondering just which son he meant.

"Scorpius is shy. He doesn't squeal. He doesn't roar and run around like a tiny devil. He also doesn't let strangers kiss his cheeks without bursting into tears. And look at him," Malfoy nodded towards the boys where Aurelian was the process of lifting Scorpius up so they could use her desk as a perch of some kind before climbing up himself.

"You've turned him into a delinquent. The mere sight of you and your son and he's trying to squirm out of my arms and roaring like a beast," Malfoy went on. Hermione watched the boys, worried they might hurt themselves. She'd cleverly put everything away from on top her desk, so she wasn't concerned that they would hurt anything but themselves.

"I did nothing of the sort. The poor boy just needs social interaction with other children," Hermione informed him, "Can't having him turning into a spoiled brat like the one I recall meeting at Hogwarts fifteen years ago."

She looked at him pointedly to let him know she meant him and he smirked wickedly.

"I was a bit of a brat, I suppose," he admitted.

"You say that as though that status has changed," Hermione needled, smiling at him slyly again.

He narrowed his eyes at her but Hermione could tell he wasn't actually offended. He knew he was still a spoiled brat.

"As true or false as that accusation may be," he replied primly. "I do believe you're stalling on answering my questions."

Hermione sighed.

"It's not my place to meddle in the life of you and your wife, Malfoy," she told him.

"And yet you have vital information regarding her that I want you to share," he replied.

"That tone certainly suggests the spoiled brat in you still believes he should be given whatever he wants. Promptly and without argument."

"Because I do," he nodded, "You should know that by now. You've known me fifteen years, after all."

"It's not my place to give you what you want, Draco," Hermione said quietly, glancing sideways in concern when Aurelian took a running leap off the end of her desk and across the room. He soared through the air – much further than such a small boy ought without the assistance of magic – before he landed neatly on his feet without so much as a stumble. He looked back at Scorpius, clearly waiting for the younger boy to copy him and Hermione edged out from under the table.

Malfoy was too fixated on wanting answers to pay heed to what his sons were doing. With a roar like a dragon, Scorpius copied Aurelian's actions, running on little toddler legs and stumbling slightly due to limited balance. He leapt from the end of the table and Hermione just knew he was going to land badly. Aurelian knew it too because he gave a shout of warning.

Scorpius began to plummet towards the ground and Hermione lunged across the carpet of her office to snag hold of the boy just before he could land face-first on the floor, well short of where Aurelian had landed.

"Scorpius!" Malfoy shouted in shock and panic over the boy while Scorpius began to cry. Hermione turned him over in her arms, having caught him and rolled to the floor on her back, taking the brunt of the fall on her bottom. Tipping the boy the right way up she peered at him carefully.

"There now Scorpius, you're alright," Hermione told him, standing him on his feet and giving him a cuddle, "You're not hurt, sweetheart. Just surprised from the fall. Isn't that right?"

The little boy blinked at her words, clearly realising she was right as his fright was dimmed when he realised he wasn't in any pain.

"Bloody hell, Scorp are you alright?" Malfoy asked, crawling across the floor to the boy and looking him over. "What were you doing jumping like that?"

"Is he alright, Mummy?" Aurelian asked worriedly, coming over to the group of them gathered on the floor.

"He's alright," Hermione assured her son. "This time. And only because I caught him, Aurelian. If I hadn't, he'd have broken his nose – possibly put his teeth through his lip. You have to be more careful, sweetheart. Scorpius is not Teddy. He's not as big as you, or as coordinated just yet. He can't jump as far yet. He hasn't had practice at it like you have. You can't encourage him to do everything you can do when he's still so small. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mummy," Aurelian replied solemnly. "I thought he could do it…. I can do it…"

"I know you can. I saw you darling. You did very well. But Scorpius is younger than you. He needs you to look after him, not lead him into dangerous situations that he's not ready for yet. Alright?"

Aurelian nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mummy," he whispered, his lip trembling a little at being lectured.

"Apologise to Scorpius for leading him into trouble, please," she told her son. "He could've been badly hurt if Mummy hadn't been watching."

"I'm sorry, Scorp," Aurelian told the little boy, going over to where the child stood in Malfoy's hold, on his feet between Malfoy's legs and being checked over by his father.

Scorpius turned to him and wiped his nose before grinning toothily.

"I'm awight," he said in a small voice. "Want to twy again?"

"Scorp!" Malfoy exclaimed, sounding exasperated.

"What?" the little boy asked, turning back to his father innocently and Hermione giggled a little bit.

"You could've broken your nose," Malfoy told him. "You can't just do it again."

"But it was fun," Scorpius protested and Hermione laughed then while Scorpius wriggled out of Draco's grip.

"You'll hurt yourself," Malfoy protested. "And you didn't thank Miss Granger for catching you. She saved your life."

"Fank you, Miss Hermione," Scorpius said, running over to her and kissing her cheek before dashing back to Aurelian.

"You're welcome, Scorpius," Hermione smiled at the little boy. "Just try to be more careful next time."

"Next time?" Malfoy demanded, eyeing her like she'd gone mad.

"Oh, Malfoy don't be such a hoverer," Hermione scolded, waving a hand at him dismissively. "He's fine. And he's a little boy. He's going to get into trouble. He's going to hurt himself eventually. And he will learn his limits when he does. I seem to recall you taking a fall from a much higher height more than once and at much higher speeds when you came off your broom at Quidditch."

"I wasn't three!" he protested weakly though he seemed to see her point.

"Nevertheless, he needs to learn his limits. I'm not saying let's toss him from something and see how he does. But you have to let him be a child and have fun. If you wrap him in cotton wool he'll end up like you did at Hogwarts when you'd get hurt – not all that badly, I might add – and you complained about it for days or weeks, depending on the injury. No doubt because you were coddled too much as a child and so didn't know what to make of it when you got hurt. Not to mention you got even more attention when you did get hurt."

"Just how much attention were you paying me back then that you recall all this?" Malfoy demanded, clearly annoyed at the reminder.

"Plenty," Hermione grinned, "Had to be constantly on the lookout for you starting trouble or being sure to mock you for being such a wimp."

He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment while across the room Aurelia was showing Scorpius how to jump short distances and stick the landing before thinking about trying again from the desk. Hermione grinned at the sight of him helping his younger brother and she glanced at Malfoy to find him watching them too, looking mildly intrigued and slightly worried.

"Tell me what you've got on Astoria now," he commanded quietly, still sitting on the floor of her office with her.

"It's none of my business, Malfoy," Hermione sighed.

"Then tell me why they look so alike," he retorted, nodding at his sons and Hermione blanched, being sure to keep her face turned away from him.

"They don't," she lied.

"Are you going blind, Granger?" he asked her, "I'd hate to have to mock you about needing glasses the way I mock Potter. They look so alike they could be siblings!"

"It's only their hair colour," Hermione shrugged, before lying through her pretty white teeth, "Aurelian gets it from my father. He was blond like that well into his teens before his hair darkened to gold and then brown as he aged. Scorpius, on the other hand, obviously gets it from you."

"Damn it, witch, just tell me what you meant about Astoria. Why is she worried about what you and I discuss and what did you mean about me missing things when I'm otherwise distracted?" Malfoy snapped, clearly more fixated on the trouble with his wife than on the similarity between their sons.

"Oh for Merlin's sake Malfoy, you're worse than them when you get stroppy," Hermione snapped. "Your trouble with you wife is none of my business."

"Trouble? Who said there was trouble? Have you been speaking with her? I know she doesn't like you. She wouldn't simply confide in you about things," Malfoy reasoned. "Meaning you've caught her doing something…"

Hermione bit her lip carefully and glanced at him.

"Look Malfoy, I don't want to come between you and your wife. I'm sure she was only concerned about the argument I interrupted this morning between her and Adrian Pucey," Hermione told him finally, realising he wasn't going to let her alone about it.

There was also the fact that what she witnessed could possibly have been innocent. She doubted it, but that wasn't really the point. And as much as she and Malfoy rowed through their job at times, she counted him among her friendlier of workplace acquaintances. She didn't seek him out for drinks after work or anything so whimsical, but they were cordial enough. Not to mention he was unknowingly the father of her son. And he had a right to know who his wife was associating with and to investigate what she might be doing behind closed doors.

"Pucey?" Malfoy hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You mean she was in his office when you went to see him for your meeting this morning?"

Hermione nodded her head, glancing over at him carefully. He looked livid.

"I heard them shouting before I knocked and she left rather hurriedly when I reminded Pucey about our meeting… Look, I'm not saying it meant anything, but she was clearly there and if she reacted with concern over the idea of me telling you, it certainly suggests that she didn't want you to know she was meeting with him," Hermione sighed heavily, "What you do with the information is your business, as I'm sure you're aware, but I would very much appreciate it if your wife didn't come barging into  _my_  office shouting at me for telling you what she's been up to."

"Which might be what, exactly?" he asked carefully, his hands clenched into fists. Hermione looked at him for a long time.

"I merely overheard an argument and discovered her in his office. Pucey was rather put out at being interrupted and had clearly forgotten our meeting, so whatever it was about, it occupied much of his thoughts. Astoria left rather hurriedly after he invited me into his office."

Malfoy's knuckles cracked and he look away, his jaw clenched tightly and Hermione wondered if he knew or suspected his wife was having an affair. He didn't say anything else or ask any more questions. He simply watched as Scorpius improved at jumping under Aurelian's guidance. Hermione got to her feet – with some difficulty thanks to her heels and her pencil-skirt.

She had to nudge Malfoy to get his attention when she offered him a hand up and he looked up at her unfathomably for a second. Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited until he took her hand before pulling him onto his feet. Della had clearly become distracted and cleaned up after their impromptu lunch and Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples again.

She hadn't slept well the night before – the stress about today's meeting weighing on her mind – and she was in desperate need of Aspirin. Going to her desk drawer, Hermione found the small box she kept for emergencies and took it out.

"What are those?" Malfoy asked, having followed her over to the desk and watching her as she popped the tablets from their pill-sheet foil.

"Paracetamol," she told him, "Muggle painkillers. I have a headache."

He frowned at her for a moment as she took them, washing them down with the fresh cup of tea Della had clearly brought her. Hermione noticed there was one for Malfoy too.

"That's for you," she told him, nodding at it, "Della brought it."

"The elf who eats with you?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. Malfoy nodded as well, picking up the cup and saucer and bringing it to his lips. Hermione found herself studying him carefully as she watched him. He was clearly unsettled by the information about his wife. He drank the tea distractedly, his eyes unseeing as he looked past her towards their children.

"Granger?" he asked slowly, "Who _is_  the kid's father?"

Hermione choked on her tea at the unexpected and unwelcome question.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Hermione replied evasively.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Didn't I hear a rumour that you don't know who his father is?" he asked then, sneering a little. His expression suggested he thought her to be a little bit trashy if that were true.

"Unfortunately Malfoy, telling people I don't know who his father is happens to be the less offensive answer. Don't bother prying, I'm not going to tell you. But since we're prying into one another's private lives, why don't you tell me what you and your wife were rowing about?" Hermione replied coldly, her temper flaring at the sight of his judgemental expression.

He curled his lip at her in annoyance over her rude question.

"Not that it's any of your business, Granger," he retorted, "But I'll have you know she wanted to discuss what we should do about her current pregnancy."

Hermione blinked for a moment, surprised he'd told her and mildly concerned by his answer.

"Ah yes," she said, trying to hide her surprise, "Her pregnancy. My commiserations, Malfoy."

"Don't you mean congratulations?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Not at all," she replied, "It was my understanding that the Malfoy line needs only one heir – just as you were an only child, as was your father before you. The idea that you might have additional heirs must be terribly upsetting for you. Why else would you be discussing  _what to do about it_?"

"And just how is it that you know about my family tree, Granger?" he asked her, narrowing his eyes a little.

"I had occasion to research pureblood families and their marital ties during the war – on behalf of the Order – with the intention of ensuring no connections and possible foul play could surprise us," Hermione lied smoothly.

She wasn't about to admit to having looked into Malfoy's family tree as part of her research into making sure she had a thorough understanding of Aurelian's medical history. She knew that in the past, the Malfoy family had very notably only ever had one heir – always a male, always blonde – and she'd read somewhere that it was suspected that daughters were… dealt with. In fact Draco was the only Malfoy in more than a century to have sired more than one heir – even if he had done so unknowingly.

"Of course you bloody did," Malfoy grumbled, looking annoyed by the very idea, as he always did whenever anyone mentioned the war, "And just what you might be suggesting about my family that you think we'd be talking about  _what to do with_  another child of mine?"

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes, "As if you don't know perfectly well what I mean. The Malfoy's are notably and notoriously known for the fact that one male heir is all that is ever needed – and thereby it is highly suspicious that one male heir is all any of you seem to produce."

"That's not entirely true," Malfoy countered and Hermione suspected from the gleam in his eyes that he was looking for a fight. His annoyance with his wife had doubled thanks to her providing him the information Astoria had foolishly tempted him with. And it seemed rowing with his wife wasn't enough when he could also sling sharp words at her too.

"Oh yes, I'm forgetting." Hermione sneered, "The Insurance Child. A practice not indulged by the Malfoy's in more than a century, whereby a second son was born as a precautionary measure should some ill-fate befall the elder son. Insurance against the idea of the Malfoy fortune falling to someone else."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on her in annoyance.

"I should have known you'd be as thorough in your pursuit of my family history as you are in everything else," he snapped, looking annoyed with her even though he'd just given her a back-handed compliment.

"You should have," Hermione agreed, "Now stop pouting over the woeful state of your marriage if you're not willing to share the details and tell me about your pursuit of the Jabberwalkie."

He made a noise of frustration with her before throwing himself down into the chair across the desk from her own, his arms crossed over his chest as he levelled her a glare. Hermione chose not to mention how much he looked like a petulant child. She might not have been in a relationship in quite some time – at least not one of any real worth – but she recalled the confusing and painful emotions that came from them. She didn't wish ill on Malfoy, and she pitied him for the fact that his wife was looking elsewhere for the affection Hermione doubted she received from Draco.

She'd known the man long enough and witnessed Astoria visiting him often enough in the workplace to know he wasn't affectionate in nature. He was standoffish and cold, if she was honest. He seemed only to show affection for his son, and even that was done with a certain sternness that made her cringe at times. She didn't doubt it was a result of his upbringing. Hermione had very much enjoyed having little to do with Lucius Malfoy during her lifetime and especially since the war, but her experiences with Narcissa had taught her that it was possible to love someone very dearly while still keeping them at arm's length.

Much like his mother, Draco Malfoy was not an expressive person except when conveying displeasure, anger or disgust about something. She knew from experience, as she'd been on the receiving end of his displeasure more times during their shared career than she could count. More to the point, he didn't express any kind of playful or loving touches with his wife. He was distant, cold and rather removed from her. Hermione had never once witnessed him greeting her with a peck on the lips or even a brush of his hand to her flesh.

Oh, she'd seen, in the beginning of his marriage to Astoria, that the vivacious young woman would often greet him with a press of her crimson lips to his pale cheek. But he never returned the affection. In fact, he often made it look a chore just to endure the touches. Knowing Narcissa as she did, Hermione knew it stemmed from a formality with others that had been bred into him and reinforced even while he was still in the cradle. Narcissa, when she visited Draco at the office, was often affectionate with him, but in small ways. A brush of her hand over his hair if he was sitting at his desk. A squeeze of his arm as she bid his goodbye.

It wasn't that Hermione doubted his ability to be a nice person – as she'd witnessed that once or twice too, though mostly only with Scorpius. It was more that warm hugs and open displays of affection weren't something his family practiced. Hermione imagined that were anyone to try such things with him, he would be distinctly uncomfortable. She'd seen him at the staff Christmas last year when Luna had exuberantly insisted on hugs from all her colleagues. She knew all too well how awkward he'd appeared when the petite blonde witch had drawn him into her embrace.

"I haven't had any luck finding it," he snapped finally after glaring at her for several minutes while Hermione regarded him. In the corner of the room Aurelian and Scorpius were attacking one of Hermione potted office plants with their dragons. She glanced in their direction when Aurelian cried out in surprise as the Wriggling Bamboo began to flail suddenly in protest over being used as a toy dragon perch and bashed about a bit.

"At all?" Hermione asked Malfoy, frowning in annoyance.

"Pretty sure it's one of those creatures that only exists in Lovegood's head," Malfoy said with a roll of his grey eyes. Hermione sighed in annoyance and found herself pinching the bridge of her nose again, while Malfoy looked at her with an expression of mild amusement over his mother's expression of annoyance when reaching for patience.

Hermione didn't bother to feel embarrassed over it. In the five years she'd known the woman on a more personal level, Hermione had grown to admire her. She might be colder than Hermione could ever be, but more than one of Narcissa Malfoy's pureblood misdirection tricks had worked for her to get her what she wanted, either in private meetings with representatives from other magical beings or creatures, with other departments and even the Wizengamot. The fact was that it sometimes paid off to be reserved and restrained in one's feelings over certain things, whilst still somewhat conveying one's frustration or annoyance.

"Of course it is," she sighed again, shifting her fingers from the bridge of her nose to massage her temples in annoyance. Her headache was getting worse. Maybe she should just go home. She couldn't get much more of her research on the Warbling Gerbil-Newt without Malfoy's reports about them and there was little opportunity for studying the specimen he'd brought in when she had Aurelian in the office. He'd get up to far too much mischief inside her lab and couldn't be trusted outside of it.

Her migraine wouldn't make things any better either.

"In that case, I'm going home," she announced. "I need your report about the Gerbil-Newt on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"Do you imagine that having a three year old terrorising my office all afternoon will be conducive to my reports?" he asked dryly in response.

"No," Hermione sighed. "And I don't imagine your marital troubles will improve things either. Nevertheless, I will endeavour to remove distractions from your presence by taking Scorpius with me this afternoon – unless you object?"

"You actually want our sons spending time together?" Malfoy asked, looking mildly alarmed and incredulous.

"Scorpius could use the socialisation," Hermione shrugged, "It will do him good to have some friends. Not to mention it will be good for him to have a place he feels comfortable and safe to spend time while you sort out your issues with your wife. And taking him home with me this afternoon will mean you might actually get some of the paperwork done that I need from you so that I can do my job."

Malfoy eyed her in silence for several long minutes, clearly weighing up the idea carefully and thinking it over. Hermione could tell his was realising that the possible usefulness of the idea far outshone the drawbacks of their sons being friends. More importantly, he seemed to realise that things in his marriage and indeed, his life, were teetering on the cusp of explosion into chaos and that was not a suitable environment for a little boy. He might not want to even consider the idea of letting his son be baby-sat by a mudblood, but he would need someone to look after him when the time came that his marriage imploded. Hermione didn't have to be genius to know it would. She doubted very much that Draco Malfoy would be the type of man to tolerate his wife sleeping with another man. Especially when she was currently pregnant, calling into question just who the father of her unborn child might be.

That didn't even begin to cover the devastation that might follow should she inform

Narcissa of what she'd seen in Pucey's office that morning. Hermione might not have been willing to suggest to Draco that his wife had an askew skirt and smudged lipstick when she'd entered Pucey's office, but she could certainly pass her observations on to Narcissa. Unlike Draco, she was emotionally removed from the situation and not likely to fly into a rage and murder her daughter in law. Of course, she might still attempt to do that, but it would be after some methodical and careful planning. But murder wasn't Narcissa's style. She would simply murder Astoria both socially and politically, ensuring that no man save for the philanderer she was shagging might ever consider her again. Not that a divorce from Draco Malfoy wouldn't have significant effect in that department.

Hermione wondered if it made her cruel or heartless that she was currently hoping for the destruction of the woman. She had no real reason for doing so, if she was being honest. Yes, Astoria had asked a pointed question about Hermione having told people that she didn't know who the father of her son was. And yes, it had been implied at the very least that Aurelian and Scorpius looked similar. But beyond those things, Hermione Granger and Astoria Malfoy had been on polite and friendly terms.

She didn't admittedly spend much time with the pureblood woman. It was simply a case of different interests, different values and no real chance or inclination to overcome those things. They interacted whenever the encountered each other, most often through polite conversation and that was that. Yet as she contemplated Draco Malfoy, awaiting his answer about her minding Scorpius for the afternoon, Hermione found herself thinking rather cruel thoughts about Astoria Malfoy.

She didn't rightly understand the feelings. She'd never considered herself either fond of or displeased with the woman. She'd certainly never begrudged Astoria her marriage to Draco. Hermione would admit that there had been a time or two when a twinge of spitefulness had prickled her regarding the fact that she'd also borne Malfoy a son. But that was of little consequence. Hermione knew she certainly didn't fancy Malfoy. And while she no longer despised him, she wasn't on overly close terms with him either.

She had kept her distance and remained entirely professional in her role as his colleague. Indeed the only inappropriateness between her and Malfoy had been the night Aurelian had been conceived and if she was being honest, she didn't remember much of the encounter. She only knew she had awoken in his townhouse in London – where he'd been living for a time before being married due to the place's proximity to the Ministry and the convenience of something close by.

She'd woken naked in bed with him, had almost died of shock at the sight of him naked beside her in his lavish silk bedsheets and she had escaped as quickly as possible. She hadn't even bothered with donning the dress she'd worn to the work function the night before. She'd fled in only her under things, crawling through the Floo before he could wake up. And since then Hermione had entertained no notions of them being a couple, nor did she wish to consider it now.

Even when she had discovered she was pregnant with his child, Hermione had never considered the idea of approaching him about it. She'd known he was betrothed and that he wasn't overly pleased about the idea, hence falling into bed with her after getting sloshed. However, for all that they sometimes rowed at work like an old married couple, Hermione didn't fancy him or much like him. She simply tolerated him and worked with him when it was required. They could occasionally needle each other with sharp-tongued sparring and taunts. They could even scream at each other and turn their wands on one another and it was of little consequence.

In that regard, he was actually a rather model employee and colleague. More than once in the seven years she'd worked for the department Hermione had gone head to head with colleagues and many of them reacted poorly. She didn't like to have her authority challenged without a damn good reason and she didn't tolerate less than effective work practices. As such she knew she wasn't the easiest witch to work with. She demanded one hundred and ten percent from the hunters she sent into the field to investigate magical creature related disturbances and to collect data and live specimens for her research.

She demanded even more from them when she required information to better legislate the magical world and more effectively guard against discrimination based on species or classification. Thus far the only person who'd been able to consistently and effectively work with her was Malfoy. He was driven and dedicated to the job. He might at times be too slack with his paperwork, but Hermione would admit she admired his dedication to the job – even if it sometimes came at the expense of timely filed reports.

Since she'd started, she'd seen many hunters come and go. Many researchers, too. Luna was always around, as dedicated to the study of magical creatures as Hermione was and with a unique perspective on things. Others were either intimidated by her ability to multitask, jealous of her ability, or downright spiteful about working with her. Very few of them had liked it when she'd gotten in their faces and demanded what she wanted or needed from them to effectively do her job. Malfoy was the most consistent.

When she was pissy about not having a report she needed and she took it out on her colleagues for their incompetence, he'd engage her in a full-on screaming match if he had valid reason for slacking. He'd even taken up for others a time or two when she'd jumped all over them. If Hermione was completely honest with herself, she could admit she rather liked their ability to so effectively fight together. Things often got out of hand when they argued in the workplace, but they always blew over. And never as a result of an apology.

In the seven years they'd worked together in the department, Hermione couldn't remember a single time that he'd apologised to her for the things he said when they argued. And she had certainly never done so. She never picked a fight with anyone without valid reason or without thinking it through first, so she was never apologetic about the results. And it worked for them. Sometimes things might be icy for a few days or weeks, but then it would blow over and things would go back to normal. Hermione actually enjoyed fighting with him, sometimes.

It was interesting to consider the points he made when he hurled arguments at her about whatever they were studying at the time. It was sometimes fun to trade insults with him too, knowing that if he did get offended, it wouldn't matter. He'd said awful things to her over the years, and vice versa. Yet here he sat in her office, moodily contemplating allowing her to mind his son for the afternoon.

The irony that she was raising his other son was not lost on her as she awaited his reply and contemplated their working relationship and her spitefulness about Astoria. Hermione supposed it just came down to the fact that she respected the sanctity of marriage and of committed relationships and thought very little of those who didn't. It was most likely residual bitterness from her break up with Ron, but that was neither here nor there. She'd gotten over him eventually and even managed to tolerate him most of the time when they saw each other these days. Having a son and seeing his expression when he learned she'd shagged someone else after him – rather soon after him – had gone a long way to helping her get over him.

"I can't believe I'm even contemplating this," Malfoy sighed. "A few weeks ago, I was threatening to rip your tongue out of your head and shove it up your arse when you were hissing at me about that snake fiasco. And here I am, considering allowing you to babysit my son."

"Our working relationship hardly needs to impact the friendship of our sons," Hermione told him, grinning a little at the reminder of his threat, "It's not as though I'm ever going to take my displeasure with you out on your son. And my minding him for the afternoon isn't going to change the fact that you and I scream at each other when the need arises. If I mind him this afternoon and I come in tomorrow to find you've not done that paperwork, I'm still going to tear you a new one."

Malfoy smirked at her then.

"Fine, look after him if you can convince him to go with you," he shrugged.

"Aurelian, darling?" Hermione called to her son and both boys looked over at her.

"Yeah?" Aurelian asked.

"We're going home early today, sweetheart. Scorpius is welcome to come with us for the afternoon if he'd like to," Hermione told the boys.

"You want to come to my house again, Scorp?" Aurelian asked the younger boy.

Scorpius considered it for a moment.

"Can I Daddy?" Scorpius asked quietly, looking to his father for permission.

"If you want to, Scorp," Malfoy smiled indulgently at the boy.

"Ok," Scorpius nodded, smiling.

"I'll Floo over and pick him up later then," Malfoy informed her, turning back to her when the boys began to celebrate getting to play all afternoon. Hermione heard them babbling about Aurelian's Quidditch figurines.

"Alright," Hermione nodded, getting to her feet and beckoning both boys over to her, before waving her wand to tidy her office. Malfoy got to his feet as well, scooping up Scorpius into his arms for a moment when the boy came within range.

"You be good for Miss Hermione, alright?" Draco commanded quietly and Scorpius nodded. Hermione watched them carefully when Draco dropped a kiss to the top of Scorpius's head before standing him back on his feet.

"I'll come by after work to collect him," he told her, moving for the door as Hermione held Aurelian's hand with her left and Scorpius's hand with her right, leading them both towards the door to the office.

"That'll be fine," Hermione nodded, "And you better have that paperwork done by then, or I'm going to flay you."

"Threatening me again?" Malfoy smirked. "We both know you'd never go through with it, so stop trying to intimidate me. You suck at it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, hiding her smile of amusement as she led the boys out into the corridor, allowing Malfoy to pull her office door closed behind her. She was about to lead them away down the hall but the feel of Malfoy's fingers pinching at the sleeve of her shirt stopped her and she looked over her shoulder at him. She startled slightly to find him a little closer than she expected, his grey eyes dark with some emotion she couldn't name.

"You said you heard them arguing," he said in a low voice, his eyes searching her face. "What were they saying?"

Hermione bit her lip though she held his gaze steadily.

"I heard her shout, asking him what she was going to do. And he shouted back he didn't know. Then I heard the sound of an office plant being thrown against the hall and some muffled sounds. That's all I heard…" Hermione admitted honestly.

Malfoy nodded his head in a sharp jerk, releasing her shirt and Hermione saw the shutters come down behind his eyes, closing his thoughts and emotions off as he clearly dismissed her. Hermione didn't say anything else before she led his sons away by the hand. She didn't look back either, even if she did feel bad for him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

A pounding migraine was causing sparkles at the corners of her vision six hours later. Malfoy was running late. She'd just gotten through with making sure Scorpius and Aurelian had both been fed some dinner. She'd been trying to focus on getting some work done, but her long and mostly sleepless night was catching up to her. Having two small boys running about the house shouting and laughing as they played wasn't great for her concentration either.

She couldn't focus enough to read, so Hermione resorted to putting on her telly, lowering the volume so it wouldn't make her pounding head worse. She resorted to putting on an old favourite film of hers in the hopes of calming the boys down a bit. They were both getting sleepy and grumpy after having played all day and she'd resorted to children's animated films to settle them. They were both snuggled up on the couch, listening to the singing characters on the screen and Hermione found herself smiling.

They looked adorable together, both curled up like a pair of sleepy blond kittens. Scorpius had snuggled in close to her along with Aurelian, who had for a time resisted the urge to sit with her before giving in. He'd come over when the singing started, crawling up on the couch cushion beside her and leaning into her a bit. Scorpius had followed suit and Hermione had smiled when the younger boy had climbed up on her other side and laid his head in her lap while Aurelian snuggled in under her arm, his cheek pillowed against her chest.

She found her mind beginning to wander as the movie played, her fingers teasing through the white blond hair of both boys. Scorpius's eyes had closed as they continued to watch, his breathing evening out into the smooth puffs of slumbers. Aurelian smiled at her when he noticed.

"I like him, Mum," Aurelian told him. "Scorpius and Teddy are my best friends."

"I'm pleased, sweetheart. Just make sure you always take good care of him, okay?" Hermione whispered to him, dropping a kiss to his upturned cheek. "That's what friends do. They love each other and take care of each other."

"I promise," Aurelian nodded before burrowing into her side a little deeper, wriggling until he was comfortable.

Hermione returned to dragging her fingers gently through his blond curls until he fell asleep as well. Her aching head eased slightly as she closed her eyes and drifted off with both of Draco Malfoy's sons snuggled into her like tiny, blond blankets.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco Malfoy was cranky by the time he left the office that night. He knew he'd worked late – though he still couldn't decide if it had been on purpose. The idea of going home to Astoria had irked him so he'd tried to focus more of his time on the paperwork he'd promised Granger. Not that it helped much when his mind kept analysing the information Granger had given him about his wife.

He was no fool, he'd heard the whispers and rumours about his wife carrying on an affair with Adrian Pucey. He'd even confronted her about it and she'd denied any knowledge of it, stating it was merely vicious gossip invented by the press to sell papers. At the time, Draco had believed her. They'd only been married four years, after all, and he'd wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He'd also arrogantly believed any woman lucky enough to marry him would never even consider straying – if not because of his devilish good looks and charm, then at least out of fear over his family's less than stellar reputation.

The idea that she'd been seen that very morning in Pucey's office boiled his blood. He'd known something was off the minute Granger had uttered that sentence about missing things because he was distracted. She didn't have to state out loud that she'd been implying something significant and her pointed glance at Astoria had done the rest. Draco had never imagined that the woman would suggest his wife was having an affair. In all honesty he'd realised he had been rather oblivious.

How could he not have noticed the signs that his wife was cheating on him? How could he have managed to miss the fact that his mother and Granger were friends? Not acquaintances. Not polite attendees of many of the same functions. Friends. His mother was a very private woman when it came to two things. Her family secrets, and her functions. She never shared information about either with anyone if she could help it. The idea that she'd been meeting Granger for tea on a regular basis unnerved him.

As did the number of mannerisms and little things about Granger that he'd subconsciously noticed over the years. Things she must've picked up from his mother. The witch was positively Slytherin when she'd informed him of their sharing common interest and giving him his mother's slyest smirk. The idea that he'd missed such things had tormented him all afternoon and Draco knew he was running late to collect Scorpius.

The kid would be tired and cranky by the time he got there. Draco glanced at his watch. It was a little after eight and he'd finally managed to slog his way through all the reports he needed to file. Getting to his feet for a well-earned stretch, Draco gathered his cloak and headed for the door.

He Flooed to Granger's house, climbing out of the fireplace and glancing around the stately home. It wasn't huge, but it was rather nice. She'd clearly redecorated recently too. There were signs of the house being there a long time but it had been spruced. Glancing around for a moment, he wondered where the hell Granger was and why she hadn't come to investigate the sound of his arrival.

When she didn't make herself apparent to him, Draco went looking. It was rather rude to do so, but he needed to get home and he needed to find Scorpius. The sound of someone singing a few rooms away drew him through her house and Draco frowned in confusion when he entered what appeared to be a lounge room where the sound was originating from. He couldn't see anyone inside, though brightly coloured moving people inside a box on the far wall seemed to be the culprit for the noise.

He was about to keep looking for his son and his colleague when he noticed a child sized foot dangling from the side of the couch in front of the singing box. Draco frowned as he moved forward to investigate and he felt something inside him clench strangely as he came to the back of the couch to find the three people he'd been searching for.

His three year old son was sprawled across the couch, his head in Granger's lap, deeply asleep. Scorpius was taking up most of the room; Granger was sitting on end of the couch, and her son Aurelian sitting on her other side and tucked into her, his face pillowed on her chest. Granger's chin rested on her chest, one of her hands tangled in Aurelian's blond curls and the other carefully woven through Scorpius straight blond hair.

It was apparent to him that all three of them were deeply asleep and he found himself moving around into the room further to look at them. He studied them carefully, beginning with his son. Scorpius was clearly comfortable in Granger's presence, a little smile on his angelic face as he slept with his head on her thigh. He looked as innocent as only a child could as he slept, his breathing deep and even. His small body spread across the cushions sideways.

On Granger's other side, Aurelian was curled into her, clearly very much in awe of his mother as he cuddled her middle while he slept, one of his little arms curled tightly around her stomach. His little face was as innocent and as angelic as Scorpius's and Draco found himself again thinking that they were so similar they could be brothers. Between them, sleeping soundly like a well-cuddled pillow was perhaps the most powerful witch he knew.

Her chestnut curls were free of the bun she'd worn her hair in at work that day and she'd changed into a more comfortable looking pair of grey sweat pants and a fluffy pink jumper. Her curls rustled slightly with her breath where they'd fallen over her face as she slept. Like a protective mother hen she touched both boys as she slept. Draco felt something inside of him clench again as he looked at the three of them.

He couldn't describe what it was. He didn't rightly know. All he knew was that the sight of the three of them made him feel funny inside. Glancing towards the singing box on the wall, Draco marvelled at it a moment. He knew it was a muggle television, but he'd never really understood them. His eyes darted around the room for some sign of how its muggle powers worked and fell upon a wizarding camera sitting innocently on the side table.

Unable to resist the urge to do so, Draco reached for it, picking it up carefully. He aimed it at the slumbering trio on the couch and pressed the button to capture the image, smiling to himself as the picture printed out. Granger stirred slightly but didn't wake at the bright flash and he wondered how tired she must be. She'd complained of a headache at work. She'd also taken some muggle medicine for it. He wondered if that was what made her so sleepy.

Catching the picture as it printed out the bottom of the camera, Draco looked at it for a moment. He didn't want to think too hard on it as he slipped it into his pocket before replacing the camera where he'd found it. His eyes danced over Granger and the sleeping children. He felt a terrible squeeze in his gut when it occurred to him that Astoria would never be caught dead dozing with two little children on a couch.

For some reason, the idea bothered him. It was entirely improper of Granger to do so, and yet Draco rather admired the way she did so. There was something… calming about the sight of so powerful a witch cuddled up asleep with two little boys, protective of them even in slumber.

Draco couldn't explain the way he felt about Granger.

He didn't fancy her. He knew that. He certainly admired her, to an extent, though he would never let on about that fact. He also found that he compared most other witches he met to her. Her brilliance. Her wit. Her keen mind. Her power. She didn't seem to realise how powerful she was – she seemed downright oblivious to the way most blokes eyed her hungrily when she walked by. She could command attention simply by entering a room, even when she did so with the intent of being unobtrusive.

Over the years of working with her, he'd grown used to her. He might not fancy the witch, but he could appreciate her dedication and her commanding presence. The fact that she was all that in addition to being a loving mother made her something special. He knew that he subconsciously compared Astoria to her.

Astoria was many things. Beautiful. Pureblooded. Proper. She was everything he'd ever imagined his wife would be. And yet he'd never been overly interested in her. He'd tried to be. When he'd learned of his fate to wed her, Draco had been furious and devastated. Not because there was anything wrong with her, but precisely because she was so….

He couldn't describe what it was that his wife was. She wasn't dull or boring. She was vivacious, flirtatious and pretty. She was sweet and played at being innocent… but to him she just seemed so… plain. She was one of the most beautiful witches around – far prettier than the likes of Granger – and yet somehow, to Draco she was just… lesser than. She had everything going for her. Hells, she probably deserved better than the likes of him.

But for all that, Draco just found her to be lacking in something. He didn't know what. She was smart enough. Pretty enough. The proper pureblood princess with all the right manners and connections. She never put a toe out of line with him. Unless she was having an affair, that is.

Stepping towards the sleeping trio on the couch, Draco was loathe to wake them. He didn't want to go home and fight with his wife again. He didn't want to invade upon this very vulnerable moment of Granger's, even if he had just snapped photographic evidence of it. More to the point, he didn't want to wake his tiny son when he looked so peaceful. Toeing his shoes off his feet, Draco sank slowly down on the end of the couch beyond Scorpius's sprawled form, allowing the singing box with its bright colours to steal his attention as he waited.

He'd long since loosened his tie and Draco found himself having to restrain the urge to groan as he sank into the soft couch. Unlike those within the Manor – which were often cold, stiff leather with hard seats – Granger's couch was clearly designed with comfort in mind. After so long in his rigid office chair, it was like he'd sunk into a soft cloud of heaven. No wonder Scorpius was sprawled across it. The bloody thing was comfier than Draco's bed!

Sighing heavily, Draco allowed his body to sag into the warmth and softness of the chair, sliding down a little until he was more comfortable. For the time being he ignored the fact that he was in Granger's house and really ought not to be. Curling his arm over his son, Draco let his busy and hectic mind lull to the sound of the music. The almost lullaby-like quality of some of the singing on the box were just the right kind of boring and without intentions to do so, Draco felt his eyes closing, his mind slowly closing down for the night.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco woke to a heavenly scent in his nose and the soft feel of someone running their fingers through his hair. He felt like he might be in heaven. He didn't dare open his eyes lest he discover it was some kind of dream. Lying on his side, he could feel something small and warm pressed against his chest. The feel of a hand running through his hair and snagging slightly made him tense for a moment.

The hand was small and unfamiliar and Draco's eyes snapped open suddenly when he felt another slight jerk on his hair. It was dark in the room, and his mind felt fuzzy with sleep. There was a soft sound of singing coming from somewhere and light flickered beyond the shape of someone's face very close to his, peering at him. Narrowing his eyes in surprise, Draco fought not to flinch.

Aurelian Granger peered into his face carefully, smiling when he noticed Draco was awake.

"Your hair is the same colour as mine, Malfoy," Aurelian informed him solemnly, his hand tugging at a lock of Draco's hair before holding out a fistful of his own curls to show him the similarity in colour.

"Yes, I noticed," Draco said, his voice gravelly and thick with sleep. He tried to get his bearings, jerking a bit in surprise when a warm weight across his back shifted suddenly and someone's fist clenched in the back of his robes.

Robes? What was he doing sleeping in robes? And why was Granger's son waking him? Draco tensed again when a delicate feminine moan met his ears and his pillow began to squirm. Lifting his head sharply, Draco took stock of his position, squinting against the dark of the room.

Scorpius was snuggled up against his side, sprawled across him like a tiny blanket laying half on him and half against his chest where he lay on his side on an unfamiliar couch. Pressed into his chest and beneath his cheek was a squirming and slowly waking Hermione Granger. Aurelian was also half stretched across his mother. Draco tensed even more when he realised he'd been using Granger's taut stomach as a pillow and was half cuddling her waist, half being cuddled by Scorpius – who was still fast asleep.

Granger's arm was laid over his shoulders and down his back. Aurelian had clearly been sleeping in her arms and gotten bored when he woke up.

"Aurey?" Granger asked, her voice husky with sleep and making his body twitch uncomfortably as the sound.

"Mummy?" Aurelian said, patting her lightly, his free hand still playing with Draco's blond hair.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked the boy, blinking her eyes open slowly even as she arched beneath him, her body tensing and tightening beneath his arm and his cheek where he cuddled her to him. Bloody Merlin, the sound she made as she stretched and her body writhing beneath his made his cock throb inside his trousers. No witch had any right sound so exquisitely pleasured from a simple stretch.

"Malfoy's hair is just like mine, Mummy," Aurelian told Granger, grinning at Draco, who lay frozen against the witch. It became clear to him that he must've fallen asleep when he'd sat down to wait out Granger's nap. He had no idea what time it was. Or how he'd gone from sitting at the other end of the couch to snuggling Hermione Granger, his son sprawled over his side, her body beneath his head as a pillow.

"What?" Granger asked, twitching a bit.

"Look," Aurelian said, tugging on Draco's hair a bit.

"Aurey what are you….? Argh!" she screamed, her gaze wandering towards her son's voice in confusion before her eyes widened at the sight of him.

"Malfoy!" she hissed, frozen beneath him on the couch as though too shocked by the sight of him to even pull away.

"Granger," he replied, aware of how thick his voice was with sleep. Scorpius's elbow was digging into his back and Granger was still fisting his robes.

"What is going on?" Granger asked in a confused mewl, her brow wrinkling as though she didn't understand what was happening or where she was.

"Erm… I don't know," he offered, lifting himself slowly. Or trying too. She was clutching him tightly.

She had somehow stretched herself out on her back on the couch and Draco's top half was pressed between her and the couch, mostly on top of her and – if he was feeling and seeing things correctly – sprawled between her legs. His cheek had been pressed to her stomach and his arm was thrown over Scorpius and across Granger's hip. Aurelian had clearly been snuggled into Granger's chest – there was still a child-sized dent in the cushions.

"You're in my house," Granger muttered, looking seemed utterly bewildered.

"I am," he agreed sluggishly.

"You're on my couch… on me," she continued, eyeing him like he was mad. "Why was I sleeping on the couch? Why are you here? Were you sleeping on me? Is that Scorpius?"

Her mind was clearly rebooting and coming alive and Draco flinched minutely when she suddenly jerked her arm away from where it was laid over his shoulder and down his back. Draco found himself looking at her. It seemed he'd pillowed his head just shy of her ribcage and to meet her bewildered gaze he was looking her breasts in the face. She was fully dressed, of course, they both were, but that didn't change the fact that she was beneath him.

"Oh Merlin," she gasped suddenly when he lifted off her the tiniest bit, turning slightly to dislodge Scorpius from his perch on him. The boy grizzled in his sleep without waking, digging his elbow harder into Draco and Granger twitched again.

"Aurelian, hop off me sweetheart," Granger instructed, "You're hurting me when you sit on my arm like that."

"Sorry Mummy," the boy protested, "But look. Malfoy has hair like mine."

"Yes, I see that," Granger answered him, seeming distracted, and Draco winced when Aurelian pulled his hair again to demonstrate the matching colour.

"Scorpius, too look," Aurelian went on and Draco sucked in a breath of surprise when the boy climbed closer to him, snuggling his face under Draco's arm to lay his head next to Scorp's.

"Aurey, darling, I need you to move. It's lovely that you share a hair colour with Draco and Scorpius, but it's the middle of the night and we need to be getting you to bed, don't we?"

"But I already napped," Aurelian said. "When did Mr Malfoy get here, anyway?"

"Why don't you ask him, sweetheart?" Granger said, clearly trying to wrangle the boy and having a hard time of it with him laying on her, snuggled into her on her couch in the middle of the night.

"When did you get here, Mr Malfoy?" Aurelian asked him immediately and Draco cringed at the formal title coming from the kid when he was still curled under Draco's arm. One of Aurelian's arms was thrown over Scorpius hugging the smaller boy and Draco was hit with a terrible pang of confusion at just how similar both boys really were.

The only difference between them was that Aurelian's hair was curly and he was a few years older than Scorpius.

"Erm… a little after eight, I think," Draco admitted.

"What time is it now, Aurey?" Granger asked.

The boy held up his arm where Draco noticed a glowing wrist watch strapped to his forearm.

"Says zero one dot dot four three," the boy read the digital display and Draco cursed.

"Shit," he groaned, before trying to cover his mouth. Trying being the key word as he was unable to when he had one arm wrapped around both boys and his hand burrowed under Granger's hip. The other arm was stretched straight and buried in the cushions between Granger and the back of the couch.

"Mummy, Mr Malfoy said a naughty word," Aurelian giggled and Draco groaned unintelligibly, turning his face to press his forehead, nose and mouth to Granger's jumper-clad stomach and groaning into her. She twitched beneath him and Draco tried to free his arm from inside the couch.

He felt Granger freeze beneath him suddenly and a sense of horror overtook him.

"FUCK!" he cursed again, louder this time though the word was muffled by her jumper. His arm was inside her jumper. He could feel it now, trapped inside the fabric, palm flat against her back, pressing comfortably between her shoulder blades. It felt tingly with loss of blood flow thanks to being trapped under the witch.

"Aurey, off. Now," Granger ordered and Aurelian tensed under Draco's arm.

"I'm stuck," he announced, having wedged his head under Draco's arm next to Scorpius and now unable to get free with Granger laying on both of Draco's hands. This was a nightmare. Surely it had to be. He was going to wake up in bed any moment now with his wife having stolen the covers and sprawled across his side of the bed because she had an annoying habit of stealing his blankets, his warmth and his patience by trying to snuggle him subconsciously while she slept.

In fact, come to think of it, this had to be a dream. Draco had never woken so entangled with anyone else in his life. Astoria chased him across the bed every night until he lost his temper and shoved her back to her side every time she tried to cuddle him like this. Scorpius was the only one who ever got away with cuddling him and when that happened the tot always managed to sneak in without waking Draco, curling into his side or sprawling across his chest.

"Of course you are," Granger sighed tightly, before leaning slightly to free Draco's outside hand from under her hip. Draco lifted the arm free quickly, watching Aurelian roll free and get to his feet next to the couch.

"Freedom!" the boy shouted suddenly and Scorpius jolted awake, grizzling even more until Draco wrapped a comforting arm around him, lifting his face away from Granger to shush the tot back to sleep.

"Aurelian, stop shouting. Go and turn on the light, please," Granger told the boy as Draco began pulling back from her, dragging his hand from inside he shirt and trying really hard not to notice how silky her skin was.

Aurelian did as he was told, rushing over and turning on a light switch across the room. Draco blinked blearily against the harsh light when it clicked on, brightening the room much too much for his liking.

"Could you turn the telly off too, please sweetheart?" Granger asked of her son as she skidded up the couch and away from Draco, dragging her legs from under him until she was pressed against the far arm of the couch, staring at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked of Draco in a quiet voice, eyeing him now as Draco shuffled around, shifting Scorp until the kid was cradled across his lap.

"I worked late," Draco sighed, closing his eyes again and tipping his head back to lean against the backrest of the couch, not wanting to deal with this awkward situation right now. He wanted to go back to sleep. And he wanted Granger not to look so bloody good whilst barely awake and utterly bewildered.

"I worked late to finish that paperwork. Didn't leave until after eight. I came here to pick up Scorp, but you three were all asleep on the couch with that singing box still playing. I didn't want to wake you all right away, so I sat down to see what this moving picture thing is about… I must've dozed off."

"And what? Crawled into my lap?" she asked.

"Last thing I remember is sitting here like this," he indicated to his current position at the opposite end of the couch from her. "I don't recall moving at all until waking up to Aurelian pulling my hair."

"Mummy?" Aurelian interrupted. "I'm sleepy."

"I know, darling," Granger turned to him as Draco opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling a moment. "Why don't you go and hop into your pyjamas and I'll tuck you into bed?"

"Can Scorp come too?" Aurelian asked.

"No darling. He and Mr Malfoy are going to their house. You can't have a sleepover tonight. I have work in the morning and you're going to Aunt Ginny's, remember?"

"Scorp could come too," the boy insisted, looking pouty now.

"Scorpius has other things to do tomorrow, Aurelian. He can sleepover with you another night. How about that?" Granger bargained with the kid.

Aurelian thought about it a while, his eyelids drooping. He'd come closer to Draco and Scorpius as he was thinking and Draco couldn't help but laugh when the little boy laid his head on Scorpius's chest where he was draped over Draco's lap – standing between Draco's knees to do so.

"Mmkay," the boy agreed, before falling asleep there.

Draco laughed then, moving his arm to grip the boy before he could slide to the floor and hurt himself.

"This is hardly funny," Granger protested, clearly cranky at being woken to something so absurd.

"It's hilarious," Draco corrected her, still chuckling.

"No, Malfoy, it's not. You need to go home. Your parents and your wife will be worried sick wondering where the two of you are," she reminded him and Draco cringed when he suddenly recalled his wife and parents at the Manor. She was right. They would be terribly concerned.

"Ah, fuck," he sighed, "I wish I hadn't gotten out of bed this morning."

Granger made a noise of concern when he began to laugh again. This day was just too strange for him to contemplate.

"Don't say that. And stop laughing. I need you to go home," Granger instructed, getting up from the couch and coming closer, scooping up her sleeping son and beginning to carry him away through the house. Unsure what else to do at that moment Draco was still entirely too reluctant to go home. Even knowing his mother and father would be panicking.

The idea of returning to his home where his cheating wife would be pretending to care that he hadn't returned made him want to vomit, actually. Cuddling Scorpius to his chest securely, Draco followed Granger down a hallway and up some stairs, where she carried Aurelian into a bedroom. She laid the sleeping tot on the bed carefully before simply transfiguring his robes into pyjamas. It was easier than changing him manually.

She tucked Aurelian under the covers, smoothing his curly hair away from his face and kissing his forehead before she stood straight once more.

"Why didn't you go home?" she asked in surprise when she spotted him in the doorway.

"She's cheating on me, isn't she?" Draco heard himself ask bluntly.

He must be sleep deprived and raving. There was no other explanation for the idea of discussing this with Granger, of all people. And at two in the bloody morning too.

"Do you want me to answer that honestly?" she asked quietly, coming closer and gripping his arm to turn him in the doorway and leave the room. "Or do you need me to lie to you?"

"You already did lie if you have to ask," Draco accused.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not saying your wife is sleeping with Pucey. But for a woman who is usually impeccable, things like slightly smudged lipstick and a skewed skirt certainly suggest it… It's none of my business and I've already ended up far too deep into this, but…"

She paused at the sound of her Floo roaring as she steered him back into the room he'd arrived in and Draco cringed in horror at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy climbing out of the fireplace.

"Miss Granger are you still… oh?" she began, calling out in confusion at the number of lights still on in the house before she stopped at the sight of Draco, Scorpius and Hermione all in the room.

"Mother?" Draco asked, blinking at her as a pit of dread began to roil inside his stomach.

"Where the devil have you been?" his mother hissed, her eyes flashing furiously. "Your father and I were worried sick!"

"I worked late," Draco shrugged

"Don't lie to me," Narcissa hissed. "I've already been by your office and your townhouse."

"Then what are you doing here?" Draco wanted to know, frowning at her in confusion. "What? I'm not at the Manor, work or my flat so your next suspicion is Granger's house?"

"As a matter of fact, Astoria was in a right tizzy, crying and whimpering about her and Miss Granger and something about a meddlesome little bitch. I thought I might investigate," Narcissa replied.

"It's not what you think, Narcissa," Granger sighed tiredly from behind him. "I meant to owl you earlier… I had a meeting with Pucey this morning and Astoria was there, shouting about what she should do. When I encountered her she also had smudged lipstick and her skirt was crooked…. And I might've mentioned that to Draco. I've been minding Scorpius all afternoon and Draco came by to collect him but fell asleep."

Draco watched his mother blink at the witch and he waited for her to hiss about being addressed by her first name.

"Why were you watching Scorpius?" she asked instead and Draco wondered if maybe this really was some terrible nightmare.

"I had to take Aurelian with me to work this morning. After my meeting, Astoria showed up to talk to Draco with Scorpius in tow… I watched him while they rowed and then left for the day because  _someone_  didn't finish their paperwork," Granger shot him a glare. "And I had a migraine and needed to bring Aurey home. Since Astoria left Scorpius with Draco after their tiff, I needed Draco to do paperwork and was to be spending the rest of the day minding my own child anyway, I brought Scorpius with me."

"I wasn't aware Draco had met Aurelian," his mother answered tightly and from the look on her face as she spoke to Granger, he got the sense she wasn't thrilled by that fact.

"An unavoidable occurrence when Aurelian invaded his office this morning while I was in my meeting," Granger answered and Draco's eyes danced between the witches, sensing there was more that they weren't saying in front of him. It unnerved him that his mother and Hermione Granger could have unspoken arguments with their eyes while he had no clue what was going on.

"You fell asleep here?" his mother asked him finally.

"On the couch. Granger, Aurelian and Scorp were already asleep. I meant to investigate the television, but I dozed off…." Draco admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

"How long have you been here?" his mother asked him curiously then, though she still looked highly suspicious about things.

"Since half eight," Draco replied, hoisting Scorpius a little higher in his arms.

"You've been asleep in Miss Granger's house for almost six hours?" Narcissa frowned now, looking mildly confused. "Why didn't you just collect Scorpius and come home?"

"I hardly think I'm the only one spending unexplained amounts of time in Granger's presence, Mother," Draco retorted, narrowing his eyes at her implication. "Excuse me for believing that just about anything would be more appealing than going home to my cheating whore of a wife."

"You have proof that she was cheating on you?" his mother asked and Draco glanced at Granger, lifting one eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, I told you both everything I noticed when I found her with Pucey this morning. Whether her attire being just the tiniest bit out of place was a result of an affair or just a rough morning is hardly my business," Granger protested, holding up her hands as though to ward off the questioning expression both Draco and Narcissa levelled her way.

"You told me she was having an affair," Draco accused.

"I did not," Granger retorted. "All I said was she and Pucey were arguing in his office this morning and that she looked a bit dishevelled. What you do with that information is hardly my business."

"What about Pucey? Was he similarly dishevelled?" his mother asked the witch and Granger sighed heavily. Draco raised his eyebrows when she scrubbed her hands over her face and strolled out of the room.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes slightly but opted to move over to sit at the small table in the room, apparently expecting Granger would return shortly. Draco glanced at his sleeping son in his arms before moving over to a small lounge near the fireplace and laying the boy down across the cushions. He scrubbed his own hands over his face as he straightened, stretching slightly and trying to make sense of when his life had turned to some confusing hell.

Granger returned a few minutes later while Draco was pacing in front of the fire, levitating a tea-tray in front of her laden with cups for the three of them as well as a plate of biscuits. Draco quirked an eyebrow, suddenly recalling he hadn't eaten since the lunch of jam sandwiches he'd had with his son and Granger in her office hours ago. Draco watched with some interest as she poured the tea for his mother, perfectly attending her finicky process of adding the water, the milk, and precisely two and a half cubes of sugar before sprinkling some cinnamon into it and stirring it precisely nine times.

If Draco had needed any more proof that Granger and his mother met for tea, that was it. The fact that Narcissa accepted the tea without a complaint and immediately brought it to her lips to drink told him that the woman trusted Granger's ability to correctly make her tea. Something not even her husband or her only son had ever managed. He'd tried a hundred times as a boy to make his mother's tea and not once had she been impressed with it. Draco felt his eyebrows rise slowly when Granger proceeded to make his tea for him as well, stirring one sugar into black tea before adding just a small dash of milk to the top. She handed it to him on the saucer, holding it out to him without a word and Draco wondered when it was that Hermione Granger had learned how he liked his tea.

His mother sipped from her cup calmly as Granger continued to make the tea rather than answering the questions Narcissa had put to her.

"Now," she said finally when her own tea - no sugar but lots of milk - was poured and steaming in her hands. "I want to make it very clear that I want nothing more to do with this mess. Understood?"

"Do share how you ended up in the middle of it to begin with," his mother replied primly.

Granger sighed again.

"You may recall I had a meeting with Adrian Pucey regarding my drafting of new werewolf legislation this morning," Granger told the woman, focusing on his mother and ignoring Draco as he continued to pace across her living room, awaiting her answer. "I attended, surprising him as he'd obviously forgotten, and Astoria was in his office. They were shouting at each other behind the closed door when I arrived. I hadn't intended to be involved at all, beyond mentioning my observations to you when you come for tea tomorrow evening."

Draco frowned, trying to recall what it was his Mother had told him she would be doing tomorrow night. Merlin, how unobservant was he that he'd never caught on that she was meeting with Granger?

"Just how often do you two have tea?" Draco wanted to know, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Every week," Narcissa informed him solemnly.

"And how long has that been going on?"

Granger and Narcissa shared a loaded glance before his mother waved a dismissive hand.

"Oh, who remembers?" she brushed him off and Draco felt his suspicions grow. He would need to look into this  _friendship_  of his mother's. "Now, tell me why you instead informed Draco rather than bringing the information to me, Miss Granger."

"I returned to my office - to discover Aurelian playing in Draco's office - and we were chatting when Astoria arrived with Scorpius in tow. I had no intention of being involved beyond rescuing the tot from having to witness his parents arguing. Then Malfoy comes in demanding to know what I knew about Astoria because she gave him the third degree on what he and I had been discussing."

"And you told him?" Narcissa asked and Draco narrowed his eyes at his mother for her tone. It was clear she was displeased and Draco did not at all like the idea of his mother meddling in his marriage and keeping things from him.

"I had a right to know," he informed her. "The bitch is clearly a cheating whore."

"I never said she was cheating on you. I only told you what I'd noticed and what I'd heard. She might've just had a rough morning. Merlin knows I often turn up looking less than sophisticated when I can't get Aurelian to cooperate and am in a hurry."

"Yes, but you are not Astoria Malfoy," Narcissa informed her. "You don't keep to a rigid schedule to ensure not a single hair is out of place."

Draco glanced at Granger, waiting to see if she would be offended by his mother's judgemental tone.

"Thank bloody Merlin for that," Granger sighed before running a hand through her unruly curls.

"Indeed. Now, answer my question about Pucey. Was he dishevelled?"

Granger bit her lip and avoided Draco's gaze.

"His mouth was red," she said finally. "Might've been from someone's bright red lipstick... could've just been that he rubbed at it. Nothing else was off with him, but I don't know him well, so I doubt I would notice if he were attired out of the ordinary... He was distracted throughout the meeting though. He didn't fight me on any of the points I thought he'd push for with my legislation and he signed off on everything I wanted."

"You said you overheard her asking him what she was going to do?" Narcissa asked and Draco knew her mind, like his own, had jumped immediately to reasons a man might be terribly distracted - so much so to allow Granger to implement a de-registry of werewolves and to provide them access to Wolfsbane potion like required medication for the ill, free of charge. Pucey should have fought her on at least four points for her legislation. Draco knew. He'd read it. And he'd have fought her on them. If Pucey - notorious for his stubbornness and his refusal to be budged on certain things, in particular giving things away for free – had signed off on them all then the man had something bigger and far more life-altering on his mind. Given Pucey's upbringing and his training too, he must have been really off his game if he didn't fight Granger on her legislation.

"Do you believe they might've been arguing about Astoria's condition?" Narcissa asked delicately.

Granger lifted her head slowly.

"We agreed I wouldn't be getting any deeper into this mess," she replied stubbornly. "I told you what I observed and what I overheard. My personal beliefs on the matter aren't up for discussion."

"Your personal beliefs on any matter more often than not prove highly important to how certain things proceed," Narcissa corrected her and Draco wondered if Granger knew just how big a compliment his mother had just paid her. "You consider things from an angle far removed from that of most people and you aren't emotionally invested in Draco's relationship. Tell me what you believe is happening, please."

Granger eyed his mother over her tea cup in silence for several minutes and for a moment he thought she wasn't going to answer the woman. Until she bit her lip and looked at the nails on her right hand. They were manicured nicely, short enough to be functionable but long enough to be feminine and pretty. They were also painted a pretty shade of pink.

Glancing at her bare feet where they poked out from under the table, he noticed her toes were the same shade and just as well maintained. It was clear from her expression that she was thinking carefully about the situation, putting that brilliant mind of hers to use.

"I think determining the results of a paternity test might be prudent," she said finally, holding his mother's gaze. "However, gathering the information will need to be done very delicately... When is her next pre-natal appointment?"

"Next Tuesday," Narcissa replied immediately.

"You are familiar with the mid-wife overseeing her pregnancy?" Granger asked next and Narcissa nodded, a sly smile curling across her face. "I don't believe that Astoria will be familiar with the testing procedure. I should warn you that doing so while the child is still in utero involves sticking a large needle into Astoria's womb and drawing blood from the unborn foetus. It can be risky. It's the easiest and most effective way to test. Draco, you would need to provide a DNA sample as well, to compare it to that of the baby. If they don't match, then you are not the father."

"In other words you think my wife is shagging Pucey and that he knocked her up?" Draco summarised.

Granger contemplated the question carefully some more before answering.

"Were there not already rumours about the two of them... and were she not so immaculate all of the time that such small things are noticeable, I would chalk it all up to a misunderstanding and a bad day," Granger said finally. "The fact that she is always perfectly proper is actually a hindrance to her. Not to mention she's given herself away with her own paranoia regarding my possible knowledge of her affair. Demanding to know what I've been telling Draco and calling me a meddlesome bitch suggest she clearly thinks I know what she's been up to and have told you about it. Which is fair, given that I have. The point is, I believe - based on the evidence - that she is having an affair. However, it would be more prudent to first ensure she isn't pregnant with your child before confronting her. If you confront her about it now, she'll naturally deny it and if you push the issue you may very well end up with your wife stealing your unborn child away and never letting you see him or her again. She will also slander me, what with the very limited evidence currently against her. I don't doubt that if you were to go to her now and accuse her of an affair, based on what I've told you, she would insist I was merely lying to you about it in some misguided and false accusation that I was trying to split the two of you up for my own purposes. Which I can assure you, I am not."

Draco began to nod slowly, realising that she had a valid point. He wanted to go home and stab the bitch, if he was being honest, but Granger was right. If he did that he ran the risk of having her flee from him with his kid and he wasn't about to let that happen.

"You also need to consider the implications of her potential affair and how that will effect Scorpius. I can understand that you might be feeling betrayed and angry with her over this. But she's still Scorpius's mother. It's not as simple as just divorcing her and letting her wallow in her disgrace when the two of you," she nodded indicatively at Draco and his mother. "Socially and politically destroy her. Scorpius won't know any differently that she's been sleeping around on you. He won't love her any less now because he won't understand what it all means until he's old enough to understand what sex is and why monogamy in a marriage is important."

"As though she's any kind of decent mother?" Narcissa scoffed and Draco glanced at her, surprised to learn she would share such a thought with Granger. Just how much time did these women spend together and what kind of friendship did they have that Narcissa Malfoy would share such a disloyal thought about her daughter-in-law?

"Her ability as a mother aside," Granger said clearly unfazed by Narcissa's interruption. "She is nonetheless Scorpius's mother. Divorce could be very messy. Emotionally damaging to Scorpius, and more importantly, she could challenge you for custody of him. Even though she's the one who had the affair, she is his biological mother and she doesn't work. In fact, she would most likely be awarded custody if it came to it. You, Draco, work five days a week at a mildly dangerous job. It could be argued that while you have to be at work, he would have to be with your parents or a babysitter. She, on the other hand, would be able to care for him all the time because she doesn't work."

"She would have to begin working if Draco divorces her," Narcissa replied. "The Greengrass family have fallen on hard times recently - a stock investment that went sour. And she would not get anything from us because she violated the prenuptial agreement I insisted she sign."

"Yes," Granger agreed. "But that scenario hinges on Draco remaining faithful to the marriage."

Both witches turned to him and Draco paused, raising his eyebrows at them both.

"What?" he asked, concerned by the identical expectant expressions they wore.

"Have you shagged anyone but your wife during your marriage?" Granger asked him bluntly.

"Now you're accusing  _me_ of an affair?" he demanded.

"Just answer the question, Draco," Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. "We need to know how much mitigation will need to be performed."

"No, I haven't bloody slept around. I happen to be a faithful bastard."

"You're sure?" Granger pried. "If you have slept around on her and it comes out, you sacrifice half the Malfoy fortune to her."

"I read the bloody pre-nuptial agreement, Granger. I know that. At the time, I thought it was intended to protect against me squandering my marriage vows more than to protect against losing half of it to her for her being a slag. Although the wording was strange. Why make it only acceptable for me to shag the mother(s) of my child or children? That was obviously going to be Astoria."

He was frowning at his feet and as such, Draco Malfoy missed the second loaded glance his mother and Hermione Granger shared.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The following morning, Hermione dragged herself out of bed feeling like utter rubbish. She hadn't managed to shoo Draco, Narcissa and a sleeping Scorpius out of her house until after three AM before she'd dragged herself to bed without a shower. They'd spent the remainder of the night arguing about the repercussions of Astoria cheating on Draco and how he would legally be able to retain custody of Scorpius. Hermione didn't know why it was that the discussion had to be carried out in her living room at such ungodly hours.

Or why she had to be involved at all.

Oh, logically she knew it was important that she be informed given that they were discussing the fate of Aurelian's half-brother. She also knew that Narcissa valued her opinion and her knowledge of the legal system pertaining to things she hadn't even had to deal with herself. Hermione had made it her business to fully research child custody when she'd been pregnant with Aurelian, fearing there might someday be a scenario where she could be challenged for the right to her child.

None of that, however, explained why she had to be so bloody involved at such horrid times. It would have made much more sense to Hermione that Draco and Narcissa take Scorpius home and that they mitigate the potential fallout with Astoria without tipping her off via Draco being so late home. It also would have suited her much better to have had such discussions during daylight hours – and somewhere other than her sitting room.

Grumbling to herself about meddlesome Malfoys, Hermione dragged her tired body into the shower and tried to revive herself. She needed to take Aurelian to her mother's that morning, having been awoken by an owl from Harry letting her know that Ginny was still ill and so wouldn't be able to babysit the child. Hermione knew her mother would be delighted to watch him for the day. She also knew that Aurelian was going to be awake shortly and she needed to be fresh faced and awake to ensure that he was properly fed and cared for before Flooing him over to her parent's place.

She needed to get ready for work and the last thing she felt like doing was combing through field reports and researching something. She might be incapable of restraining her natural curiosity and keen mind for long, but even Hermione Granger needed sleep. With two consecutive nights of interrupted rest, Hermione felt very much like she was a new mother again. She hadn't been so tired since Aurelian had been a baby.

Using magic to dry her hair into neat curls without frizzing, Hermione dragged it all up into a neat bun, securing the curls carefully. She was going to be doing a research day in the lab, so she needed to make sure she couldn't get any unwanted substances in her hair. Namely the secretions of the creatures she would be studying and analysing. She still recalled the mishap she'd had last year when she'd been studying the Kantankerous Shrew and had been sprayed with venom that seared large hunks of her hair right off. She been forced the wear bangs months before the curls had grown back in.

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror with some annoyance when she'd finished on her hair. Ordinarily she didn't wear much make-up to work unless she was having a meeting like she'd done yesterday. However the dark circles under her eyes and the bloodshot hue of her eyes made it so she was going to have to if she didn't want to spend all day being checked over by Luna for signs of Snurks having invaded her eyelashes. She knew this, because she'd suffered through Luna's curiosity and mild paranoia on the subject before. Reaching for her tea-extract moisturiser, Hermione smeared a healthy coating of it over the bags under her eyes, pleased when the skin began to tighten and return to its usual colour.

Dusting a minimal amount of concealer over her face and applying just a lick of mascara, Hermione didn't bother with her lip gloss. She still needed to have her breakfast.

"MUMMY!" Aurelian suddenly shouted from somewhere outside her bathroom and Hermione frowned. Snagging up her dressing gown, Hermione went in search of the small boy.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked when she found Aurelian dashing madly about the house, his blond hair sticking up in a wild tangle of frizzy curls.

"There you are!" Aurey shouted before dashing over and flinging himself at her, cuddling her legs and pressing his little face into her tummy as he breathed hard. "I woke up and Scorpius was gone, and Mr Malfoy was gone, and I didn't know where you were!"

"Malfoy and Scorpius went home after I put you to bed, Aurelian," Hermione told him, lifting the small boy into her arms and propping him on her hip. "Now what would you like for breakfast? Aunt Ginny's not well today, so I'm taking you to see Gran while I go to work."

"GRAN'S HOUSE!" the boy shouted in her ear, making Hermione cringe even as she found herself grateful for the fact that she didn't have close neighbours.

"Yes, dear. Now, pancakes for breakfast?" Hermione asked. "Or waffles?"

"Waffles," Aurelian decided, "Hey look, Scorp must have left his dragon here."

Aurelian pointed across the room as they entered the kitchen and Hermione noticed the pair of identical green toy dragons sitting side by side on the kitchen table. The sight of the innocent little toy sitting there so unassumingly brought the previous day flooding back to her and Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm as she recalled waking up so entwined with Draco Malfoy.

In the discussions that had followed, Hermione had nearly forgotten that she'd awoken to the feel of Malfoy sprawled across the couch with her and the two boys, his hand inside her shirt and his face pressed to her stomach, his torso intimately pressed between her legs. She didn't recall ever waking up like that with anyone before. At least, anyone not her son. Oftentimes Hermione woke with Aurelian in her bed when he snuck in after she was asleep. When that happened, he sprawled himself across her like she was his favourite pillow.

It unnerved her that Malfoy had done the same thing. Hermione set Aurelian down at the table to begin making them both waffles, sighing heavily and rubbing her temple. A headache was prickling at her psyche uncomfortably, tormenting her just enough to niggle but not really to hurt yet. Undoubtedly, it was a result of the lack of sleep she'd been suffering and a carryover from yesterday's migraine.

"I really like Scorp, Mummy," Aurelian was chattering away to her over at the table. "I'm going to teach him to jump like I can. Can he come over today?"

"Not today, sweetheart," Hermione told her son. "Mr Malfoy and Scorpius were here late last night and Scorpius is probably tired. He has to spend the day with Mrs Malfoy and her husband because they're his grandparents and they look after him while Mr Malfoy is at work with Mummy."

"Oh," Aurelian said, kicking his feet about thoughtfully while he nibbled his bottom lip and tugged on his left earlobe thoughtfully. "Well, when can I see Scorpius again? Do you think he'd like to meet Teddy?"

"I'm sure that he and Teddy could be good friends," Hermione smiled at him, wondering how Harry might feel about the idea of Malfoy's son playing with his godson. Even if they boys were technically second cousins. "Maybe if you're really good, and if Uncle Harry and Mr Malfoy say it's alright, Teddy and Scorpius can both have a sleepover with you next week."

"Really?" Aurelian lit up at the very idea. "I'd like that! We could play."

Hermione smiled indulgently at the boy before bringing him his breakfast. Aurelian spent most of it chattering away to her about the games he'd played with Scorpius yesterday and about how excited he was to have Teddy meet Scorpius so they could all go flying on their little toy brooms together. She hurried through the rest of their morning routine, being sure to get Aurelian dressed, his teeth brushed, and some things packed for him to play with at her mum's place.

More than once, Hermione had tried to talk the woman into moving in with her so she could better see Aurelian and so she wouldn't be rattling around her place in London, but her mother insisted she didn't want to have to drive so far into the city to meet her friends and attend the dental practice where she worked.

"Come on, sweetheart," she called to Aurelian when they were both dressed and ready to go.

Aurelian came tearing into the room, both toys dragons in his hands.

"Don't forget to take this to Malfoy so he can give it to Scorp, Mummy," Aurelian reminded her, shoving Scorpius's toy into her hands before climbing into her arms so they could Floo over to her mother's.

"Hermione? Is that you darling?" Wendy Granger called out when she heard the fireplace.

"Gran?" Aurelian called out, squirming in Hermione's arms to get down as soon as they arrived.

"Is that my handsome grandson?" Hermione's mum called out, entering the living room from the kitchen.

Aurelian ran over and hurled himself at the woman when she scooped him up into her arms to give him a cuddle.

"Hi, Mum," Hermione smiled hurrying over to kiss the woman on the cheek too. "Is it alright if you watch Aurey for the day? Ginny's not well. I think her pregnancy is hitting her hard."

"Of course, darling," her mum smiled, always happy to watch her only grandson. "You know I love watching him. You can help me make muffins today, Aurey."

"Muffins!" Aurelian shouted. "The chocolate ones?"

"We can make some chocolate ones if you like. I'm going to make some blueberry ones, too. They're your Mum's favourite."

"Really, Mum?" Aurey asked, turning back to her.

"They  _are_  my favourite, Aurey," Hermione nodded, "Now, give me a kiss so I can get to work."

Aurelian leaned over and wrapped his arms and legs around her, peppering Hermione's face with kisses and affection as he bid her goodbye before he squirmed to be let down when he heard her mum's dog – Sparky – barking from the backdoor.

"Are you sure it's alright to watch him?" Hermione asked of her mother when he was gone. "I know he's a handful."

"He's a delightful child, Hermione, I love seeing him. Now, tell me what's going on. You look tired, sweetheart."

Hermione smiled at her.

"I've just had a few late nights with the new legislation I've been trying to push through," Hermione told her. "And last night I was minding his half-brother."

Hermione nodded in the direction of Aurelian where she could hear him playing fetch with Sparky in the backyard.

"Scorpius?" Wendy asked her.

"Yes. That's him. You'll hear all about him from Aurey today, I'm sure. As you know, his father and I work together and it was discovered yesterday – by me – that his wife is having an affair and possibly pregnant with another man's child," Hermione told her briefly. "Draco and Astoria have been rowing, and they had Scorpius with them yesterday when they had a spat at the office. I watched him while they were fighting and Astoria was clearly paranoid about what I might've told Draco, so she drilled him about it."

"He's getting divorced, then?" Wendy asked her and Hermione caught the gleam in her mother's eyes lit up at the idea that Draco would soon be single. It had never sat well with the woman that Aurelian's father didn't know he'd sired Aurelian and that Hermione hadn't demanded he claim the boy. She'd been rowing with Hermione about it for years, insisting that Hermione ought to tell him.

The idea of Draco being single again soon would undoubtedly renew the woman's efforts to see Hermione marry Malfoy instead, despite her arguments about their messy history and how she didn't fancy him.

"Possibly. If the baby is Adrian's and not Draco's. Long story short I took Aurey and Scorp home with me yesterday to mind them for the afternoon and Malfoy showed up late to collect him. He'd been avoiding going home. Then his mother turned up looking for him after midnight and she got involved in the mess about Astoria and the affair. I didn't manage to shoo them out of my house until after three this morning."

"Well, no wonder you look tired, sweetheart," her mother smiled sympathetically. "Here, take this to work with you. It will make you feel better."

Hermione accepted the breakfast muffin and the travel mug filled with hot chocolate gratefully.

"Go on now, darling, or you'll be late for work. We'll discuss everything further this evening when you collect Aurey," her mother shooed her back towards the fireplace and Hermione gave her another hug, breathing in her familiar rose scent before she climbed into the fireplace and Flooed over to the Ministry.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco was tired and cranky by the time he got to work. He'd been at Granger's late into the night and well into the early hours of the morning. He'd also been forced to endure further discussion and fighting when he finally got home. He and his mother had decided on a lie to say that he hadn't been anywhere near Granger's place last night. Not wanting to go rousing suspicion over there being something between him and Granger, ludicrous as the notion was.

His father would, of course, be filled in on everything when Astoria wasn't around to hear about it, but until then they'd decided to say that he'd been at the office late and then had been away from the Manor, the office and his townhouse because he'd been hunting a creature for work. There had been a slight hitch in the story thanks to having Scorpius in tow for the evening and the likelihood that he would babble on about having been at Granger's all afternoon, but his mother had smoothed that over.

He still hadn't been able to get over the expression on his wife's face and his father's face when Narcissa had informed them that she and Granger were friends and that Granger had been minding Scorpius as a result of that and not of some imagined affair between Draco and Granger. Astoria had been too distraught to focus on it for long – in fact Draco noticed idly that her hysteria had seemed to focus around the idea of him having an affair and of what Granger might've told him more than any concern for his wellbeing or over where her son had been all day.

That, more than anything, infuriated Draco. He was furious enough over the affair to begin with because he'd been faithful to the bitch. The idea that she didn't seem to care about their son made him angry enough to kill her. And it had become clear as he watched her last night and this morning that she truly wasn't a very good mother. She just didn't seem to care about Scorpius. Oh, she doted on him, but she also regarded him with the same cold gaze she so often turned on his parents, the elves, and Draco himself.

He didn't know how he hadn't seen it before now. She watched their son the same way one might watch a magical creature in the wild when it was unpredictable and not to be trusted. There was suspicion, a little awe, and a whole lot of utter bewilderment. He'd never noticed before then, but she looked at their son as though he were something she didn't understand and had no real inclination to learn about. How he hadn't noticed it before now was beyond him. Oh, he'd known she sometimes seemed more interested in idle gossip and other shallow nonsense than in their child. She preferred to get her nails done and have tea with her friends that to have to mind Scorpius all day. She loved the boy in her way, he assumed, but she also didn't love him like a mother ought to love her son.

Like Granger loved Aurelian.

He collided with someone as he was stalking angrily down the corridor on his way to the office and Draco grunted.

"Would you watch where you're…" he started to growl before glancing down to find Granger on her arse in front of him, peering up at him from the floor where she'd fallen.

"Damn it, Malfoy!" she growled in reply, glaring at him and Draco noticed she'd obviously been carrying a swath of files, which she'd dropped as she fell. There were papers everywhere.

"Can't you watch where you're going, Granger?" he demanded, even as he knelt down to help her gather all the information. Ordinarily, he might not have bothered, but he recognised his own handwriting on most of the reports and realised from her attire that she must be intending to do a day in the lab today.

"As if you were paying any more attention than I was?" she retorted scathingly and Draco supposed she had a point.

When all the files were collected, he offered her his hand to pull her to her feet. She eyed it like it was a live snake for a moment before accepting it and Draco suddenly recalled what else had happened last night. He'd woken up intimately entangled with her on her couch. He'd nearly forgotten after the rest of the mess his life had become. The feel of her hand inside his as he pulled her up suddenly reminded Draco of the silky feel of her skin when he'd had his hand up the back of her shirt.

He didn't say anything else as he helped her up, not bothering to comment that he hadn't been paying attention or offering her an apology. She didn't offer one either as she stepped around him on her way toward the lab. Draco watched her walk away from him, his mind still lingering of the occurrence of last night.

"Oh and Malfoy?" she called over her shoulder.

"What?" he asked, still in a sour mood.

"I need to see you in my office before you go home tonight."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

It was late in the afternoon by the time Draco returned from his foray into the wilds, towing a specimen along behind him. He was in a positively foul mood thanks to being bitten by the creature currently leering at him from the cage he hauled behind him as he dragged it into Granger's lab. The very sight of the beast was enough to make one feel nauseas, but the venom slowly spreading through his system was not at all conducive to putting him in a better mood.

"Malfoy?" Granger asked, looking up at him in concern when he tripped over his own two feet, light-headed with the venom in his body. She frowned at him through the protective mask she wore whilst handling the most recent tree salamander species he'd hauled in for her to study last week.

Too angry and delirious with the venom to think coherently enough to make sentences, Draco dragged the cage closer, his lip curling back from his teeth when the Jabberwalkie he'd caught flicked more tail spines at him. They embedded in the protective leather hunting robes he wore into the field, unable to penetrate the skin but hurting nonetheless as they connected with him.

"Oh, bloody hell, you've been bitten again, haven't you?" Granger demanded when he stumbled slightly again. "Stop hauling the cage, Malfoy. Leave it where it is. You need medicine."

Draco ignored her words, dragging the cage towards the confinement area where it wouldn't be able to fling more spines about the place. Granger was obviously too preoccupied with his health to notice the creature's bad habits because she began to hurry towards him, clearly intent on helping him.

"Malfoy! I said, leave it there. You're going to make yourself sick and end up in St Mungo's again. Stop moving and let me get some medicine into you!" she commanded, entirely too bossy for her own good.

She hurried over as Draco walked around the back of the cage once he'd gotten it inside the protective confinement. The rattling sound the Jabberwalkie made before flinging spines came again when it spotted Granger. Even with the venom coursing through his system, he could tell Granger wasn't on her game today. Usually, she was much more attentive when he hauled in a new creature. That she was instead expressing only concern for his well being – putting herself in danger in her worry – suggested she wasn't with it.

He lunged for her as she came closer, making like she was going to reach for the wound on his right hip where he'd been bitten right through his hunting gear. She squeaked in protest as Draco snatched hold of her, twisting his arms around her and hauling her against his chest, shielding her with his body. He groaned as he was hit with more of the spines flung by the Jabberwalkie.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked from the protective cage of his arms as Draco frog-marched her out of the confinement cage, using his wand to slam the door behind him.

"It flings poisonous spines, Granger," Draco informed her woozily without releasing her, sagging against her body slightly as the pain from the most recent attack sparkled across his nerve-endings.

"Oh, no," she muttered. "Let's just get you… Damn it, Malfoy, I can't hold you up when you lean like that."

Draco was too delirious to care as he kept his arms tight around the small witch, noticing idly that he'd ducked his head to rest it upon her shoulder. He found himself nuzzling into her neck and breathing in the heavenly scent of her that he recalled from when he'd fallen asleep on her last night.

"Shh, Granger," he shushed her patting her hip reassuringly even as his knees gave out.

She swayed precariously under his weight for a minute before they both fell to the floor of her lab.

"Bugger," she cursed, still tangled in his arms.

Draco was too tired and too angry about the creature he'd hauled in to care much about how undignified he probably looked or about the fact that he was nuzzling a woman not his wife.

"Stop squirming, woman," he complained when she wriggled around in his hold, trying to disentangle herself from him.

"I have to get you some medicine before you die, you idiot," she retorted, squeezing out of his hold before scrambling to her feet and hurrying across her lab to the first-aid kit she kept for emergencies like this.

Draco snorted to himself when she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of more poisonous spines hitting the protective glass surrounding the Jabberwalkie.

"Told you," he sneered, sitting in an ungraceful heap.

"Shut up and drink this, you fool," she commanded, squatting next to him and gripping his chin tightly to tip his head up before she poured anti-venin and a healing potion down his throat.

Draco coughed and spluttered at her as she proceeded to try drowning him with an enormous glass of water to wash the medicine down and to help distribute it through his system.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" she was ranting at him already and Draco watched her through half-lidded eyes, wriggling as he tried to shrug out of the protective leather cloak he wore before struggling to shift position enough to lean against the nearby counter. His head spun dizzily as he did so, feeling the medicine she'd given him already beginning to race through his body, curing him and ensuring he wasn't going to die.

"Of all the irresponsible, thick-headed, dim-witted, bloody ridiculous…" she went on and on, insulting him and cursing him for a fool.

Draco stayed silent as he watched her while she fussed with the bite wound on his right hip. She didn't even stop to blush or ask his permission as she hauled on the hem of his hunting tunic, lifting it to expose the site where he'd been bitten, heedless of the fact that she was seeing his naked torso. He found a slow smirk crawling across his face as she continued to rant at him. He was too tired to rant and snap back at her as he might ordinarily have done and as such, Draco realised something very important.

For all that she snapped and snarled and badgered him for more details and more paperwork; for all that she growled at him for being a fool every time he went into the field and got himself injured or poisoned, Hermione Granger cared about him. The very idea made his mind reel, but as he watched her fussing and dressing him down verbally, he couldn't deny the truth of the thought.

She cared about him. Maybe not in any romantic sense or even as a friend. But she was worried about his well being and didn't like that he so often nearly got himself killed in the line of duty. He suspected that much of it was for selfish reasons. She would never admit it, but Draco knew he was the best Creature Hunter in the business. She didn't play well with others, he'd learned, and she didn't do well with people who didn't do the job by her standards and didn't give it everything they had like he did.

In the time he'd been working for the department, she'd been through a number of other Hunters before they'd been rotated to different sections of the office or even different departments. She was a right cow, if he was being honest. She couldn't do her job by her standards when it came to studying creatures, drafting legislation about them and protecting each species and their habitats, if she didn't know enough about them. And she relied on the people like him who did the field work to make sure that everything she had on them was correct.

She cared about him getting hurt because he was the best person at his job and she didn't want to deal with the other fools in their department. Not that he blamed her. Mullens and the other Hunters were all bloody gits, if he was being honest. They were wimps, too. Draco was the best at his job because he refused to let the creatures he went after get away just because he might get bitten or slashed or poisoned in the process of capturing it.

"Enjoying the view, Granger?" he asked her tiredly when she paused to draw in a deep breath, no doubt intent on cussing him out some more for getting injured in the line of duty. Again.

"I… what?" she asked, glancing up at his face, her eyes wide and her expression showing her confusion when she realised he wasn't arguing with her about how he'd had to let the creature bite him to capture it or to keep it from doing something worse.

"You've effectively stripped me half-naked," he pointed out, smirking into her surprised face before she glanced down at his torso, having pulled his tunic right off over his head. "So, I was wondering if you're enjoying the view?"

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him shirtless, Draco knew. She had a tendency to do this, to wrestle him out of whatever was in her way to tend his wounds until he could be transported to the hospital or until a healer arrived on the scene if she couldn't fix him herself. In fact, the woman had seen more of him than any other woman except his wife and the few women he'd shagged before he'd been married. Last year, he'd gotten his right arse cheek slashed open by a dragon and had much of his left leg covered in second degree burns when she'd sent him after a Syrian Spiketail egg to study.

She hadn't even flinched when he'd returned with the dragon egg she wanted in tow, covered in burns and bleeding profusely. She'd torn what was left of his hunting trousers right off him, applied cooling charms to his burn and begun dripping Essence of Dittany onto the slash on his arse-cheek before she'd realised what she was doing. And Draco had tormented her about it for weeks afterwards, accusing the woman of being entirely too forward and of fancying the pants right off him, literally, since she kept trying to get him naked. Of course, she'd retorted that no one in their right mind would ever fancy him and that he was a clumsy, bumbling fool who couldn't even perform basic magic in order to collect one little dragon egg.

"I…" Granger blinked at him as her gaze jumped between his bare chest and stomach before jumping back to his face.

Draco smirked wickedly when her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Would you prefer to bleed out on the floor of my lab?" she demanded. "You have no right to torment me for attempting to see to your health when you're too bloody stupid not to get yourself injured at every opportunity."

"If you'd wanted to see me shirtless, Granger, all you had to do was ask," he drawled in return, having entirely too much fun needling her.

In response, she viciously swiped a disinfectant cloth over the bite wound on his hip and Draco hissed in a pained breath.

"Vicious little savage," he accused through gritted teeth, glaring at her.

"Serves you right for always getting hurt. And for accusing me of lascivious intentions when I entertain no such notions," she retorted primly, her cheeks still pink even as she tried to patch him up.

"Yeah right, Granger. Merlin, when was the last time you got laid, anyway?" he sneered. "And I ask that only because I know you had to have been laid at least once, given that you have a child."

"Do you imagine my sex life to be any of your business, Draco Malfoy?" she demanded, looking like she wanted to punch him.

"I don't imagine it's  _anyone's_  business, explaining why you're always so grumpy," he replied, smirking again.

"One day you going to be eaten by something I send you after and I'll be rid of you for good," she said coldly.

"You'll never forgive yourself when that happens, either," Draco replied. "And don't try to pretend you don't care about me. We both know you do."

"Where do you get these wild ideas that every woman in existence must fancy you?" Granger demanded, looking utterly baffled as she shook her head pityingly.

"Who said anything about fancying?" Draco smirked. "I was just stating the fact that you care about my well being because you know no one can replace me and Hunt effectively enough for your standards."

"As though you can?" she rolled her eyes.

"Why do you always insist on healing me up whenever I get hurt then, witch?" Draco asked.

"It's part of the protocol for the office," she answered evenly but Draco could tell by the way that she didn't meet his gaze as she applied some dittany and a bandage to his hip that he'd struck gold and that he'd won this round. "Why did you grab me and protect me from the spines?"

Draco smirked.

"It's part of the protocol for the office," he parroted back to her and she glared at him, her head snapping up and her brown eyes sparkling with fury.

"Sometimes I loathe you, Malfoy," she informed him coldly.

"Only sometimes," he winked. "The rest of the time you fancy the pants off me. You might as well just admit it."

"You're being ridiculous," she informed him. "Did you take a blow to the head as well?"

Draco chuckled to himself as she went up on her knees, her hands gripping his head and her fingers sliding into his hair as she pressed and prodded him, searching for injuries. He chose not to protest when the examination brought her into even closer contact with him, her jumper-clad breasts looking him right in the face again.

"Can you stand?" she asked when she'd ascertained he had no head injuries.

Draco bit his lip on the protest he almost voiced when she slid her hands back out of his hair. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He was a married man, for crying out loud. His wife might be a cheating bitch, but he was still married and he definitely should not be enjoying the feel of another woman's fingers in his hair. Especially not those belonging to Hermione Granger.

She got to her feet in front of him, offering him her hand. Draco took it after a moment's hesitation and let her pull him to his feet. He swayed precariously for a moment as his head spun from the poison still in his system. Behind him, the Jabberwalkie flung more spines at the glass but Draco ignored the creature. In front of him, Draco felt Granger's hands on his abs and he glanced at her, watching the way she was poking and prodding at him once more, searching for injuries.

As much as he needled her about it, Draco knew she didn't fancy him. She was entirely too professional and too thorough whenever she examined him. She turned him in her grip carefully, twisting him around until his back was to her.

"Oh dear," she commented at the sight of his back and Draco glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Bruises from the spines?" he wanted to know. "The bastard's been flinging them at me since I got him in the cage. Should've used a dragon-cage but I didn't have one on me. You told me this thing didn't have anything it could spew, breathe, or fling at me."

"I didn't even think it existed," Granger retorted. "And Luna had no clue it flung poisoned spines. But yes, you are covered it bruises. Some of the spikes penetrated your hunting gear too. You're bleeding. And not just from your back."

Draco sighed. Of course he was bleeding.

"Where?" he asked.

"There's a spine embedded in the back of your thigh," Granger informed him.

"Sometimes, Granger," Draco began, trying not to laugh at the very idea. He couldn't feel anything embedded in his thigh, though it had been itchy and mostly feeling numb for the better part of an hour. "I think that you send me after particularly dangerous creatures just to see how badly injured I can get, all with the intent of getting me completely naked."

"You're too full of yourself for your own good," she retorted, even as her fingers grasped whatever was embedded in his thigh and jerked it out.

"BLOODY FUCK!" Draco snarled, spinning on her at the pain that suddenly assaulted him.

"Oh no," she said, her face paling as she held up whatever it was that had been stabbed into him. "This isn't a Jabberwalkie spine."

Draco eyed the object for a minute before realising that it certainly wasn't one of the spines. It was the seedpod of the Daggertooth Dusk mushroom – a highly poisonous and insidious strain of magical fungi that spread its spores by spiking seed pods the size of his fist into whatever happened to brush against them. The effect was to make the entry site numb, slowly poisoning the victim, giving them enough time to walk a distance away before they would eventually succumb to the poison, keel over, and die.

The insidious plant used the remains of its seed-pod carriers as nourishment to feed its large size as it grew into a mushroom the size of a small shrub. Draco didn't remember having passed any while he'd been hunting the Jabberwalkie, but it had been dark in the forest where he'd found it. He supposed he might've crashed by one without realising.

The problem with the Daggertooth however, was that while it was well and good to remove the spike before the victim could succumb to the poison, removing it sparked an anti-coagulation of the blood. Draco could already feel it pouring down the back of his thigh. The idea was that if a victim managed to remove the seed pod on their own before succumbing to its poisons, they would quickly bleed out, thus providing nourishment for the seed pod just the same.

"Pants off, Malfoy," she warned him, dropping the seed pod on her work bench and hurrying back over to the first aid kit where she immediately began to dig around inside it for any number of potions he knew were going to make him gag and ointments he knew would burn like fire when applied to his wound.

"Fucking bastard mushroom," Draco snarled through gritted teeth.

"Stop cursing and lie down on the bench, you idiot," Granger retorted, returning with a collection of things to treat him before he could bleed out. In the time it had taken her to realise what the pod was and get his medicines he'd already lost more than a pint of blood. It puddled on the floor of her lab while Draco wriggled out of his trousers.

She shoved him when he took too long for her standards, already beginning to feel dizzy again as the blood ran out of him. As soon as he was lying face down across a spare bench she began applying an ointment to his thigh that burned like he was being Crucioed.

"FUCK!" he snarled.

"Drink the pain potion," she commanded him, pressing it into his hands as she continued working, trying to stem the bleeding before he could die on the bench in her lab. Draco didn't bother arguing. He drank down the three pain-relieving potions she'd grabbed before gulping down the Blood Replenishment potions she'd brought over. Another anti-venin to offset the poison of the seed pod was followed by enough water to drown him and the entire time, Granger kept applying things to his wound, stopping the bleeding, leeching out the poison as best she could, attempting to heal the flesh before it could begin to die – another rapid side-effect of removing the pod.

"You're lucky you didn't realise this was in there while you were out in the field," she commented as she worked, not at all uncomfortable over the fact that he wore only his black silk boxers.

"You'll want to be bloody lucky if I don't die, witch," Draco growled in return. "Because I might just strangle you for this. Who just yanks an impaled object from a wounded person without ascertaining what the debris is? Even if it hadn't been a fucking Daggertooth pod, it could have been the only thing keeping me from bleeding out or could have had even worse effects upon removal. What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Granger?"

"I'm sorry," she bit out. "I'm tired. Someone kept me up until well after three in the morning with his relationship drama!"

"You could've asked us to leave if it was such a problem," Draco snapped in return.

"I did ask. Seven times! And the only reason you agreed to leave was when I hexed you," she snarled and Draco began swearing foully when she paused in her treatment of his wound to jerk several hairs from the back of his uninjured thigh in punishment for mouthing off at her.

Before he could cease his swearing, the sound of her lab door being opened drew Draco's attention.

"Hermione are you… Oh?"

Saint bloody Potter stood in the doorway of the lab staring at the pair of them like he believed he'd just walk in on some kind of porn and Draco would've laughed were he not cursing a blue streak with the pain of being healed.

"Harry, come here and help me," Granger snapped, ignoring the awkward expression on Potter's face at the sight of Draco so disrobed. "He had a Daggertooth Dusk mushroom pod lodged in the back of his thigh and I yanked it out without checking what it was."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Potter mumbled, his cheeks flaming red at the idea of helping her tend Draco. Draco would've been embarrassed as well were he not being tortured by the treacherous vixen of a muggleborn.

"Don't start. I'm tired. I know I should've checked. Just get those potions into him. And be careful. He bites," Granger warned when Potter did as he was told, ignoring the awkwardness of the scene as he hurried over to try and pour more potions into Draco. Draco snapped at him like a mongrel dog when Potter tried to feed him a potion that he knew from past experience tasted like arsenic and vomit.

"Oi!" Potter exclaimed, glaring at him. "Drink the sodding potion Malfoy, or I'll maim you."

Draco writhed, realising even as he did so that the effects of the poison were kicking in, making him wrathful and violent. Potter dodged around him when he snapped at the git again, swinging at him with one arm and flailing for his wand with the other. The git pried Draco jaw open as though he were the mongrel dog he was acting like, pouring the potion into his mouth before clamping both hands over it to keep him from spewing the wretched substance all over the floor.

"Damn it Malfoy, stop flailing," Granger snapped. "Harry the next one; the one in the purple phial. It will help stem this bleeding."

"Just how often have you treated someone for this particular problem that you know that, Hermione?" Potter wanted to know, doing as he was told and pouring more potions into Draco.

"This is the third time," she told him. "The first time was Perkins in my second year with the department."

"And the second time?" Potter wanted to know.

"Malfoy – last year. The idiot pulled it out himself when he arrived back here with a baby Elephant-Squirrel, not realising what it was. That time it was stabbed through his ankle. There. See?"

Draco knew she was pointing at the large circular purple scar on his left ankle where the pod had been the last time this had happened to him.

"How prevalent is this fungi that he ran into it again?" Potter wanted to know.

"Actually they're becoming something of a problem," Granger replied. "There's a court case at the moment arguing the relativity of introducing an ordinance to have the Magical Plants and Fungi crews go out and eradicate as many of them as they can find. They're not very common in Britain, but in parts of the Middle East they're spreading like wildfire and the population of magical creatures is diminishing more rapidly than it should. Neville told me that they're even considering introducing a species of fungi called the Black Death that feeds on the types of poisonous mushrooms in an ecosystem. Trouble is that they're so poisonous as a result that getting within fifty feet of The Black Death without the proper protective gear can kill you in about ten seconds flat."

"Bloody hell," Potter commented, still pouring potions into Draco and having an easier time of it after giving him one to reverse the rage and lull him into a sleepy state of contentment.

"Yes, they're debating very seriously whether or not Black Death will need to be used or if they can eradicate enough of the mushrooms through controlled burns," Granger went on and Draco groaned when she applied something to the back of his thigh that felt like he'd been impaled all over again, only not by something that numbed him.

"Are you going to keep chattering like chipmunk or fix my bloody leg, Granger?" he growled.

"Oh, are you done swearing?" she asked blandly. "That's good. It means it's working.

"What are all these things on his back?" Potter asked, clearly choosing to pretend Draco wasn't in the room even as he talked about him.

"He captured that Jabberwalkie for me," Granger informed Potter.

Potter flinched when the creature flung more spines at the glass of the cage.

"As you can see, it flings poisonous spines," Granger went on. "They'd have penetrated right through his chest if not for the leather hunting garb."

"Whenever I come to your department, I remember all over again why I work for the Magical Law Enforcement and not the scientific division. I'd rather have dark curses hurled at me any day than take on the feral magical creatures roaming the world."

"Wimp," Draco accused of Potter, though he didn't much mean it.

He still wasn't much of a fan of the boy wonder, if he was being honest, and Draco knew the feeling was mutual. But he and Potter had reached an understanding. They stayed out of each other's way and they respected one another and that was the extent of it.

"Says the idiot half-naked and cursing over a little leg wound," Potter retorted but Draco could hear the amusement in the git's tone. "You're lucky Hermione is so skilled or you'd have bled out on the floor, Malfoy."

"I hardly think I'm the only in the room to have been given medical attention by Granger whilst disrobed, Potter," Draco retorted.

"Now, now gentlemen," Granger chided as she began binding his leg with a heavy gauze pad and a thick bandage. "Let's not argue over which one of you I've seen the most of, shall we?"

"Actually, I'd like to know that answer to that?" Potter commented. "Have you seen me naked? I can't remember."

"Lucky you," Granger replied darkly and Draco laughed along with Potter at her words.

"Well, she hasn't seen me naked Potter. Not completely," he informed the specky git.

"Haven't I?" Granger asked in the same dark voice.

"Have you?" Draco replied, glancing over his shoulder when she abandoned his leg in favour of patching the number of wounds and bruises on his back.

"You're forgetting what happened with that Selkie two years ago," Granger reminded him.

Draco's blood ran cold at the reminder.

"That fucking Selkie," he growled, cursing some more at the memory.

"Do I want to know?" Potter asked Granger.

"Luna sent him after a Selkie pup for us to study," Granger shrugged as she applied bruise-heal ointment to his back. "He had to go swimming to capture one and the pod of them weren't overly pleased about a wizard invading their territory and trying to steal one of their babies. The Alpha male of the pod almost drowned him and bit him. They're not venomous, but some of them have really sharp fangs. Show him the scar, Malfoy."

"I think Potter has seen quite enough of my body today, Granger." Draco retorted, narrowing his eyes on the very idea.

"Wimp," Granger accused. "It bit him here."

She demonstrated on herself, pinching the side of her hip and indicating to the crease where her leg joined her trunk, right in the crease of her groin. Draco had been bitten there by the Selkie, right in the place where his femoral artery was and right by his junk. The bastard creature had been big too, he had a perfect circle of teeth marks scared in a half moon over his groin, his hip and his thigh, forming a circle where they connected over his arse cheek. The opposite one to where he'd been slashed by that Spiketail last year.

"Ooh," Potter winced in sympathy.

"Nicked the artery there and he nearly bled out as he got to shore with that pup in tow. He apparated back here half drowned and bleeding profusely. Apparently he was a little too woozy from ingesting so much sea-water to realise I had to strip him to heal that wound up."

"Just how many times have you saved his life, Hermione?" Potter wanted to know.

"These days it feels like I'm having to patch him up every other day," Granger complained, prodding Draco for emphasis, "But of all his injuries maybe thirty of them have been life-threatening."

"You've saved his life thirty times?" Potter asked, sounding impressed.

"No," she shook her head. "Sometimes he manages to patch himself up and other times he has to be rushed to St. Mungo's. I think I've saved his life sixteen times, including today."

"You make me sound like a disaster, Granger," Draco protested. "If you didn't send me on such ridiculous assignments, you wouldn't have to patch me up so often."

"It's hardly my fault you're so reckless Malfoy," Granger retorted. "What are you doing here anyway, Harry?"

"I came to ask you if you could pop round when you finish work tonight. Ginny's miserable. I've had a Healer check her over and she's just got some sort of stomach bug, but the pregnancy hormones are turning her into a head-case. She sobbed for half an hour about the idea of me leaving for work this morning."

"Your wife's pregnant, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Oh. Um, yeah," Potter glanced at him as though he'd forgotten Draco was even in the room.

"Is it yours?" Draco needled as punishment.

"What sort of a question is that?" Granger swatted him even as she finished healing him up.

"A fair one," he muttered darkly, sitting up and waving his wand to summon a change of clothes from his office so he could get dressed without needing to put his soiled, bloodied and torn hunting gear back on. Granger darted a glance at him, seeming to suddenly recall Draco's own predicament with his wife cheating on him and possibly carrying the spawn of another man.

"Right. Anyway. Yes, I'm the father," Potter said, eyeing the pair of them in confusion and Draco could tell that Granger's odd camaraderie with Draco was unsettling the git. In the past, despite the number of times they shouted at each, they had never interacted much in front of anyone outside of their department. When she wasn't shouting at him about paperwork or cussing him for getting injured in the line of duty, they didn't usually interact much at all. Draco blamed his tiredness and hers for the fact that, to Potter, it probably looked like they were friends.

"Well congratulations, Potter," Draco grumbled, catching his clothing as it appeared.

"I'm not done healing you," Granger warned him when he went to put his shirt on.

"What else is there?" Draco raised his eyebrows, frowning at her.

She pointed at his right calf-muscle in silence and Draco almost didn't want to look when Potter cringed at the sight of whatever was there. Given that all he could feel was slight itching, Draco had a feeling he didn't even need to look.

"Another pod?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Not this time," Granger said, eyeing his leg with interest. "I think it's a Mangledorn leech."

Draco twisted his leg and made a face at the sight of the sickly grey, slimy creature that had attached itself to his right calf muscle. Almost a foot long it had its fanged sucker embedded in the flesh of his inner calf muscle and its slimy body was constricted around his leg, slowly numbing the area with its bite and drinking his blood.

"You're going to need more Blood Replenishment potion," Potter informed him, handing him a phial of the potion.

"How are you going to remove it?" Draco wanted to know, eyeing Granger.

"Well, it looks like it's been feasting on you for a while," she commented. "See how fat it is? That means it's engorged and almost full. It will most likely drop off on its own in a few minutes. I wasn't going to mention it…"

Draco watched the way she stopped speaking, still looking utterly fascinated by the parasite while Potter dry-heaved suddenly.

"It's disgusting, Hermione," Potter groaned, suddenly the same deathly grey shade as the leech.

"Get if off me, Granger," Draco growled.

It wasn't the first time he'd come back from some foray into the jungle with a parasite. The last one he'd brought back had been a Murkrow – a disgusting creature that looked like a newly hatched bird while it was still wet, only its beak had come with an inbuilt sucker, like a leech. It dove at unsuspecting victims from the sky, driving its beak into flesh before latching on with the sucker and drinking enough blood to grow from the size of a man's fist to the size of a Pekinese.

"But it's going to… oh never mind," she said as the leech suddenly detached itself from his person, writhing slightly as it dropped to the floor with a wet squelch.

"You better put some of this on the wound," she told him, handing him a jar of Garlic and Sea Salt ointment that was designed to stop infection from the bites of the eel and to coagulate the blood, removing the anti-coagulation venom the creature left behind.

Draco watched as she bent down and picked the eel up by the tail, holing the disgusting creature before her eyes and watching it squirm.

"Did you run through some water trying to catch the Jabberwalkie?" she asked, clearly wondering how he'd encountered the leech.

"The little fucker was feeding in a bog when I spotted it," Draco waved her questions away. "Get that thing away from me before I vomit on you, Granger. And save your questions until I give you my report."

"Will you be giving it to me today?"

"Woman, it's almost eight o'clock at night," he retorted. "You'll be lucky if I give you a courteous bid of farewell for the evening."

"Speaking of which," Potter interrupted, still looking ill at the sight of the eel. "Hermione, can you stop by and see Ginny on your way home?"

"I'll try, Harry," Granger promised. "I've got to pick Aurey up from Mum's and I imagine she'll be wanting to have dinner with me."

"Oh. Right. Of course. Well, if you get time, I think it would do Ginny some good. She's driving me spare," Potter admitted. "I'll um… I'll see you."

"I'll see you, Harry," Granger promised, looking dead tired and like she wanted to just go home and collapse into bed.

"Malfoy," Potter nodded at him in farewell as he left the office.

"Potter," Draco nodded in return, gritting his teeth as he rubbed the salve into the wound on his leg from the eel.

Potter left without another word and Draco turned his attention to watching Granger as she put the leech into a small tank where it would live quite happily until she was finished studying it. When she was finished, she studied the Jabberwalkie through the glass of its cage for a few minutes.

"What did you need to see me in your office about, Granger?" Draco asked as he reached for his clothing now that he seemed to have been as healed as he was going to get for the evening.

"Hmmm?" Granger hummed questioningly, her attention still on her newest subject of study.

Draco narrowed his eyes on her in annoyance before snapping his fingers three times in her direction to get her attention.

"Earth to Granger?"

"Huh?" she blinked and turned toward him before frowning. "Oh. You're still here. And still half-naked."

Draco glanced down at himself. He'd managed to don some trousers, though he'd yet to fasten them, and he was in the process of pulling a fresh oxford button-up over his arms. It hung open, revealing the pale expanse of his chest and his taut stomach.

"Try not to drool, would you?" he smirked at the witch. "What did you want to see me in your office about? Earlier you said you needed to see me."

"Oh. Yes. Right," she blinked a few times and looked to be having trouble dragging her eyes away from his body. Draco suspected it really had been too long since she'd been laid. "Scorpius left his toy dragon at my house last night. Aurelian found it this morning. I wanted to return it. I imagine that somewhere today, Scorpius was very upset without it."

"Is this your way of warning me that I'm likely to go home to a house full of cranky people who've had to tolerate my sulky toddler all day long, Granger?" Draco asked, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Well, I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it, I imagine you'll be going home to a very cranky household this evening. You can make it all better by being the hero and bringing the toy home, though," she offered.

"Joy," Draco rolled his eyes as he buttoned his pants and began fastening his belt.

Granger laughed at his rapidly plummeting mood at the idea of going home again. Muttering darkly to himself about his wife, his parents, and his son, Draco took the toy she handed him, looping the dragon's tail through one of his belt loops while he finished buttoning his shirt.

He was on his way to the door without saying goodnight before she called out to him.

"Malfoy?" she said and Draco paused, turning back to look at the curly-haired witch.

He blamed his excessive exhaustion and the rapidly deteriorating state of his marriage for the fact that, as he watched her come toward him holding out his discarded, bloodied, and destroyed hunting uniform, Draco found himself thinking she looked sexy as hell. How had he not noticed that she looked alarmingly attractive in her lab-coat? A feat in itself, really, given that dragon-hide lab coats were so rarely considered sexually appealing. She looked bone-tired and there were dark circles under her brown eyes. Her hair was curling out of the restrictive bun she'd pulled it into. By all counts, she shouldn't look appealing.

But she did.

She looked concerned for him and even though he spent most of the time that he interacted with her snarling insults, shouting at her, or arguing with her about their work, she was also one of the few people in his life currently aware of the shambles his marriage was in. She'd been nice to him when he'd never given her much reason to be nice, and she'd offered what she could to help him with figuring out if Astoria was cheating on him, if the woman was having his child or that of someone else, and how he should go about attaining custody of Scorpius should he end up divorced.

"Thanks, by the way," she said quietly as she came closer. "For… you know, protecting me from being hit by those spines earlier. It was… unexpectedly sweet of you."

Draco felt one side of his mouth crook up in a half-smile at her slightly awkward expression of gratitude.

"I think you repaid me when you… you know, saved me from bleeding out or being poisoned to death," Draco drawled in return, reaching out to take his destroyed uniform from her and scolding himself for thinking she looked rather cute when her cheeks flushed that shade of pink.

Before he could think about what he was really doing or even process the intent to do so at all, Draco found himself stepping closer to her, ducking his head and dropping an affectionate and grateful kiss to the spot right where her forehead ended and her hairline began. He noticed as he did so that her skin was soft and that her hair smelled nice. Blanching in surprise when he realised what he'd done, Draco took a large step back from her, his eyes widening in horror to realise he'd just kissed her on the forehead.

Granger was blinking at him in return, clearly shocked beyond words. Her mouth was open the slightest bit on a silent exclamation of surprise and she looked like she wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened. Before she could regain her wits, Draco spun on his heal and hurried out of her lab, silently berating himself for his own stupidity as he went.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Hermione reached up lightly to touch the place on her forehead that tingled even as her lab door closed with a soft click, indicating Draco's rapid departure. He'd just kissed her on the forehead. Draco Malfoy had just voluntarily and soberly kissed a part of her body. She might keel over from the shock. And not just because he'd had to get past a lifetime of prejudice to even touch a muggle-born like her, either.

Draco Malfoy, she had observed over the years, was not one for being touched. When he was injured, he might tolerate being manhandled by the likes of her as she tried to fix whatever ailed him to ensure his survival, but he wasn't one for affection. He didn't do kisses on the cheek for his wife, nor kisses on the lips. He didn't do light touches on the hand or arm. From what Hermione had seen, being touched by anyone seemed to make him uncomfortable and he only tended to tolerate affection from his mother in the form of having his hair smoothed or his arm lightly squeezed. And then only in instances where his mother was departing his presence or was particularly pleased about something.

Scorpius was the exception. Scorpius received hugs – though even those seemed to be about restraining the toddler more than actual affectionate touching just because. The idea that Malfoy had just knowingly and willingly stepped in close to her and kissed her on the forehead meant he was either suffering worse effects from the healing process than she'd imagined; especially grateful for her assistance at healing him in the first place; or beyond tired and bordering on dissociative.

None of those options seemed healthy to her. Neither did the strange little flutter of butterflies in her tummy. He might be the father of her child, but Hermione had vowed to herself long ago that he would never be more than a drunken one-night-stand who'd given her the love of her life in the form of her son.

She was certain she didn't fancy him.

She must just be tired, Hermione decided. Tired and confused after waking up entangled intimately with him and their sons on the couch last night. She'd just spent too much time in close quarters with him. The fact that she couldn't stop picturing how he'd looked standing there with his shirt unbuttoned his and pants undone, his taut stomach and toned chest on display, meant nothing. She was just tired and she hadn't been laid in a while. He'd even been teasing her about not being laid in a while.

That must be it.

Surely, she wasn't attracted to Draco Malfoy. That would be ridiculous. And inappropriate. And horrid. He was married, for Merlin's sake. Albeit to a woman who was cheating on him and probably pregnant with another man's child. But married, nonetheless. Even though he was Aurelian's father, there could never be anything but that one night long ago and a rather toxic work relationship between them.

Shaking herself, Hermione blinked rapidly before deciding she needed a decent meal and she needed to collect her son from her mother's. She needed sleep too. Obviously she was over-tired if she was contemplating Draco Malfoy's place in her life. Waving her wand to send all of her paperwork and her studies to their proper places so that she could be all packed up for the evening, Hermione shook herself a second time, cleaned her lab, and left the office.

She Flood quickly to her mother's, trying to ignore the way her forehead still tingled softly where Malfoy had kissed her.

"Hermione, darling?" her mother's voice called when the fireplace roared as she came through.

"It's me, Mum," Hermione called back.

"MUMMY!" Aurelian shouted and Hermione shook the soot off herself quickly, bracing herself just in time for a small blond bullet to come zooming into the room at top speed.

"Aurelian, love of my life," Hermione smiled, feeling her weariness melt away, her preoccupation over Malfoy and her job dissolving into the back of her mind at the sight of her son.

Aurelian threw himself at her and Hermione stooped slightly to latch her arms around the small boy, lifting him up and cuddling him to her.

"I missed you, darling," Hermione told him as she peppered kisses over his face adoringly.

"I missed you too, Mummy," Aurelian told her, cuddling her tightly and allowing the kisses for several long moments before giving her one in return. "Me and Gran made muffins! And Sparky did a new trick! Can we get a dog?"

"I… do you really think Crookshanks would tolerate us getting dog, Aurey?" Hermione asked him.

"Probably not," Aurelian sighed. "Grumpy old thing. What did you do today, Mummy?"

"I was in my lab today. I've been studying tree salamanders, isn't that exciting?" Hermione asked him, watching her mother stroll into the room wiping her hands on her apron, having clearly been doing dishes by the look of her.

"Can I see one?" Aurelian asked.

"Maybe, sweetheart. I'm still studying them, but if you be really good maybe I'll take you to work with me next week and you can see all the new creatures in my lab. You'll never believe what happened today."

"What?" he asked excitedly.

"Mr Malfoy went out on a Hunting expedition and he brought me back a Jabberwalkie," Hermione told him.

"What's a Jabberwhatsie?" Aurelian wanted to know, frowning in confusion.

"It's a new creature that I wasn't sure existed. Aunt Luna claimed to have heard about them but I was sure she was just inventing creatures and passing on rumours again. Then Mr Malfoy turned up in my office with one in a cage for me to study," Hermione told the small boy excitedly.

"Can I play with it?" Aurelian asked innocently, usually uninterested in most of the creatures she studied unless they were dragons or unless he could play with them.

"Not this time, Aurey. The Jabberwalkie is a terrible, dark creature. It has a venomous bite and it flings poisonous spines. Malfoy nearly died of poisoning just to capture it. I nearly got spiked too, and would have done if he hadn't blocked the spines with his protective hunting garb."

"He's protective of you, is he?" her mother asked slyly, grinning from the doorway as she listened.

"I was over-tired and not paying attention," Hermione admitted, her cheeks turning pink. "He grabbed me to make sure I wouldn't get stuck with the spines, too. It was entirely for selfish reasons, of course. He needed me to heal his wounds and make sure he didn't die from the poison."

"Mmmhmmmm," Wendy Granger hummed doubtfully, looking like she would very much like to see something come of her working relationship with Malfoy or of the fact that Malfoy was Aurelian father.

"Were you good for Gran today, Aurey?" Hermione asked of her son, propping him on her hip while he cuddled into her, clearly tired after a long day of playing.

"I'm always good, Mummy," Aurelian informed her innocently.

"He was well-behaved," her mother confirmed with a nod. "And he learned today why it is that we don't pick things up if we don't know what they can do, didn't you Aurey?"

"Stupid hedgehog," Aurey muttered, looking annoyed at the reminder.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"He discovered a hedgehog dozing inside an old log in the garden and he picked it up. It spiked him when it rolled into a tight ball to protect itself," her mother told her, smiling affectionately at the five year old.

"Oh, Aurey," Hermione sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I just wanted to see what it was," he protested, "It looked like a Puffeskin with weird fluff that was all hard like a shoe-brush."

"You won't go picking one up again though, will you?" Hermione asked him.

"No, Mummy," Aurelian promised solemnly.

"Have you had dinner, sweetheart?" her mother asked, coming closer and smoothing her hand over Hermione's hair.

"No," Hermione admitted. "And I know I promised we'd discuss everything I mentioned this morning over dinner, but healing Malfoy took longer than expected when there were some complications. I also promised Harry I'd stop in and see Ginny. She'd got some kind of stomach bug and her pregnancy is making her extremely emotional. Harry said she cried for half an hour this morning when he had to leave for work."

"Oh, the poor dear," Wendy chuckled. "Well, if that's the case maybe you best stop in and see her to cheer her up a bit. He needs to be getting to bed soon, too. He's had a big day. Would you like me to heat you up something for dinner, darling?"

"I'm alright, Mum," Hermione sighed, wanting nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed herself.

The last thing she felt like doing for the evening was dealing with an emotional Ginny Weasley. Sighing into Aurelian's hair, Hermione pressed the little boy to her in a cuddle and closed her eyes for a long minute.

"Maybe you should tell Harry you'll be around tomorrow to check on Ginny," Wendy suggested. "You look dead on your feet, darling."

"No, I better stop 'round," Hermione sighed. "I tend to take advantage of having Ginny available to watch Aurey most days since she's usually already watching Teddy. If she's unwell and I can make her feel better, I'd better do it."

"Well, don't stay there too long, sweetheart," Wendy said, smoothing her hand over Hermione's hair affectionately. "The last thing you need is to contract the same bug she's got. Do you need me to watch Aurey tomorrow?"

Hermione heard the little boy in her arms snore softly, having promptly fallen asleep.

"I'll have to let you know. Given how unwell Malfoy was this evening, he won't have the paperwork on the Jabberwalkie done for me by tomorrow. If I'm still this tired, I might take the day off and just stay home and watch him. Might do Ginny some good if I bring Teddy with me to my place tonight. Andy's not as young as she used to be and doesn't need a sulky eight year old underfoot all day long."

"Will you be alright taking a day off work, sweetheart?" her mother fussed softly, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "I have plenty of savings."

"Alright, well, let me know if you need me to mind the kids, darling. I'd be very interested to meet this Scorpius fellow I've been hearing so much about today," Wendy smiled at her. "You do know that one day they'll work out that they're brothers and will both be upset with you for lying to them?"

Hermione nodded.

"There's not a lot I can do about it," Hermione sighed quietly. "I can hardly surprise Malfoy mid-argument at work about the fact that he just so happens to be the biological father of my son. That's the last thing he needs right now with his marriage on the rocks and his wife potentially pregnant with another man's child."

"And if the baby the wife is carrying is Draco's?" her mother asked.

"Then more power to him, Mum," Hermione sighed. "I'm not going to ruin his life, or mine, by outing my secret."

"I still don't understand how he doesn't suspect," Wendy grumbled. "If he's seen the boys together, surely he could see some resemblance between them. Even Aurey was saying they look like brothers."

"He doesn't know we slept together?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "He'd had too much to drink and I left before he could wake up and see it was me."

"You should still tell him, sweetheart. Imagine how you would feel if you had a child out there you didn't know about. It's not the same, of course, but still. You'd be hurt and angry if someone kept something like this from you."

"What am I supposed to say?" Hermione asked. "Oh, hey Malfoy, you don't remember it, but five years ago, you and I had too much to drink, shagged, and when I ran out of your house the next morning, I took something of yours with me? He'd probably hex me and then he'd deny it and then he'd hex me again for good measure. And Narcissa would have a cow about it."

"If the woman is meddling in her son's marriage and believes her daughter-in-law is having an affair and cheating on her son, she might just enjoy rubbing their faces in Draco having another son. Not to mention the woman actually likes and respects you," Wendy pointed out. "Who knows, sweetheart? If Draco gets a divorce, that boy of his will need a mother."

"Scorpius has a mother," Hermione reminded her.

"Yes, but everything you've told me about the Malfoy family suggests she might not live much longer after her secrets are exposed," Wendy said, looking grim. "Even if they don't do something wretched to her, I can guarantee those people aren't going to let their trollop of a daughter-in-law see much of her son ever again. And a boy needs his mother. You're already mothering one of Draco's children. What's one more?"

"Oh, I'm too tired for this discussion, Mum," Hermione whined, shaking her head at the thought.

"Just tell me this then," her Mum said quietly. "Do you believe Astoria Malfoy is pregnant with another sibling for Aurelian, or is she having an affair?"

Hermione sighed and tipped her head back.

"I don't really know the woman well enough to say," Hermione hedged.

"Pish tosh!" Wendy swatted her lightly. "I know you, darling, and there is no way the woman who is the step-mother to your son doesn't have an entire file hidden away in your desk. You probably know more about that girl than anyone – including her husband."

Hermione kind of hated that her mother knew he so well sometimes.

"I can't say either way whether or not she's pregnant with Draco's child or Adrian's. The conversation I overheard between her and Adrian suggests she at least believes it is his," Hermione sighed. "And to be honest, I can't say I'd entirely blame the girl for having an affair."

"Meaning?" Wendy asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Having seen how she and Draco interact, I hardly think she's getting enough affection to meet her needs. It's unsurprising that she would go looking for it elsewhere," Hermione sighed. "When they were first married, she would always come to the office and she'd try to kiss him on the lips or the cheek, give him a hug when she was leaving, that type of thing. Only, Draco's not really the type of man to display his affection through touch."

"Oh?" Wendy asked. "And how might he express it."

"He buys her things," Hermione replied, moving over to sit on the couch when Aurey got to be a bit heavy. "When he wants to show his affection, Draco Malfoy does it by attending an event he'd rather not attend. He does it by sending flowers, or buying something she mentioned in passing that she might need or want. He does it by investing money in things he doesn't care for if it will make her happy. He's not the touchy-feely sort who indulges in public displays of affection or casual touching."

"You think that if he's the same way in private, she would turn to someone else more willing to cuddle her or hold her?" Wendy nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"I'm not saying that I don't think they're intimate with one another," Hermione sighed. "And I don't remember much of my own intimate relations with him, but I doubt he's any warmer as a person during sex than he is the rest of the time."

"He's cold?" Wendy asked, raising her eyebrows. "Based on the rows you've told me about, I thought he must be hot-blooded and fiery."

"No," Hermione shook her head at her mother. "No, warm is never a word I'd use to describe Draco Malfoy. He's… Aristocratic. Discerning. Calculating. Aloof. His parents are the same way, it's just a product of how he was raised. They aren't big on affectionate touching, either. He lets Narcissa run her fingers through his hair or squeeze his arm, but that's usually all. I've never see him and Lucius actually touch, except for once during the war when Lucius squeezed Draco's, and even that was a result of leaning in close to speak privately."

Wendy nodded her head thoughtfully.

"If he gets a divorce… will you tell him?" she asked.

"I don't know, Mum," Hermione told her. "I mean, it's not as simple as getting Astoria out of the way and playing happily families. He and I barely tolerate each other at the best of times. We work together. We don't fancy one another romantically. And even if we did, I hardly think he's going to just accept that we share a son and not be furious with me about it."

"All the more reason that you should stop holding off on telling him the truth," Wendy argued.

"I'm going to go home," Hermione sighed when she felt a spark of annoyance with her mother.

They'd long since exhausted the arguments of why she should or should not tell Draco that he was Aurelian's father. In spite of them all, Wendy still believed Hermione should tell him and figure out some way to be with him. The potential divorce on Malfoy's horizon wasn't helping matters and Hermione knew that if she didn't go home and get some sleep, she was going to take her annoyance out on her mother and say something cruel.

"I'm nagging, honey, I know," Wendy sighed too, deflating slightly. "I just want to see you happy and I want to see you with someone. You haven't dated anyone exclusively since you and Ronald ended things before Aurey was born."

"I dated a few people," Hermione shrugged. "But it never worked out well, being a single-mother is a bit frowned on in the wizarding world. And since I refuse to share about who Aurey's father is, people think I don't know and that I got knocked up after being a trollop."

"They wouldn't if you told the truth," Wendy blurted out before covering her face in both hands. Hermione knew she meant well, so she bit back her unkind words as she got to her feet.

"I'll drop by or owl you in a few days, alright?" Hermione said to the woman, stopping with Aurey in her arms and dropping a kiss to the top of her mother's head. "Thanks for watching Aurelian today. Love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Wendy said, watching as Hermione went to the fireplace to Floo home.

When she got home, Hermione put her son to bed before stripping out of her work clothes and doing the same, sinking into her own bed gratefully. She dropped off to sleep the minute her head hit the pillow.


	9. Chapter 8

Draco Malfoy laid awake in bed that night, staring at the ceiling and occasionally shooting a glare toward the sleeping witch lying beside him. He hadn't dared to tip Astoria off to the fact that he thought she was cheating on him by throwing her from his bed. Until the paternity test was confirmed, he would have to tolerate her, but he'd managed to deter her from attempting to seduce him when he'd mentioned his newest injuries.

The truth was he felt well enough that he could easily have shagged her into the headboard, but the idea of touching her when he didn't know who else had been putting their hands, their mouths, or their cocks anywhere near his wife made him feel violently ill. He couldn't bear the thought of touching her skin when he had no idea if the spawn growing inside her belly was his.

Of course, that had only been half the problem and was only one of the reasons he was lying awake late into the night despite being bone tired. The other was Granger. Hermione sodding Granger and the fact that he'd done something to the witch he'd never done to another witch in his life. He'd kissed her on the forehead. Hell, he'd kissed any part of her body not her hand in a way that was entirely non-sexual and he didn't know what to make of it.

Within polite society, kissing ladies on the back of their hands was customary. When he'd been a young boy, he imagined he'd been kissed by his parents and other children. But he'd never kissed a witch on the forehead. He'd never kissed one anywhere unless it was because he was in the process of shagging them silly. Touching for non-sexual purposes was considered improper and not done in high society. And sexual touching was only meant to take place when money was exchanged for the service – as it had been during his teenage years when his father insisted he learn how to pleasure a witch – or when one was married. He'd fooled around, of course, and he knew he'd shagged a few witches before settling into the idea of being married to a witch he didn't know very well.

And yet, he'd protected Granger from being hit by those spines and then he'd kissed her bloody forehead as though he adored her. As if any of that wasn't bad enough, he'd not even consciously made the decision to do so. He was extremely alarmed to find that he was apparently rather comfortable in Granger's presence. Comfortable enough that he'd ended up snuggling her last night on her couch at her place, and then kissed her forehead this evening.

Maybe it was the poisoning from the Jabberwalkie, or the Daggertooth Dusk Mushroom. Maybe it was a side-effect of the antidotes he'd ingested. Maybe he was just fucking exhausted and muddled after having had her running her hands all over his body in search of any hidden injuries that would need healing before she sent him on home to his cheating wife.

That he'd been unable to stop thinking about how he'd woken up entangled with her on her couch the previous night meant nothing. He hadn't nearly compromised the hunt today because he'd been thinking about the witch. He'd compromised it because his wife might be cheating on him. His wife might be pregnant with another man's spawn. Worse, Adrian was… well, not a friend, but he was certainly an associate. They'd had drinks together at many a function over the years. The idea that the bastard was going behind his back and shagging his wife made him angry enough to consider murder.

Glancing across the pillows and the brunette beside him, Draco frowned a little as he traced his eyes over her. There could be no denying that Astoria was beautiful. She had a pretty face, and silky hair, and she kept her body well-toned and maintained. She regularly got her nails done and got her hair done and went to spas and things with the other women of wizarding high society. She so very rarely had a hair out of place that at times he'd found himself thinking that she was perfect. Yet, Draco had met Adrian's wife and there could be no denying that the other witch was prettier. Hotter, certainly, with curves for days and an ample bosom liable to spill out of a man's hands. She was all legs and breasts and perfect white teeth behind glossy red lips.

Prettier than Astoria by far, and  _that_  was saying something. The idea that Pucey might cuckold such a woman for Astoria seemed unlikely. Draco knew he certainly wouldn't go straying on such a woman, even though he had the money and the brains to get away with it. Frowning in the dark of their bedroom, Draco carefully reached a hand toward his wife, hovering it above her pregnant belly as she sprawled on her back, her arm flung in his direction as though she were reaching for him in sleep.

He almost didn't dare to touch her. He never touched her, now that he thought about it. Excepting instances when they shagged, Draco couldn't actually remember the last time he'd reached for the woman without being in the process of taking her coat, or collecting Scorpius from her embrace. They rarely had time or the inclination to go on dates in the public eye when there was better food to be had in the Manor, and other than occasionally tucking her elbow through his on nights when he escorted her to some function or other, he couldn't remember touching.

Draco didn't think he'd ever touched her so casually as Granger had touched him today, and he, her. He knew for a fact that he'd never kissed Astoria on the forehead, in gratitude, or affection. She wasn't the type to swat him when he was rude to her or to others, and she'd certainly never run her hands through his hair the way Granger had done that day when she'd been searching for bumps to his head during her examination. Astoria knew better.

He didn't like to be touched. It simply wasn't the done thing, especially not in public. Draco frowned, very intently forcing his arm to lower until his hand rested, feather-light, against the faintest thickening of her waist thanks to her pregnancy. She was warm under his hand, he noticed, the silk of her night-dress soft and smooth under his palm.

Frowning, Draco didn't know what to make of the fact that he felt nothing when he touched her. No affection. No stirring of fondness. No butterflies in his stomach. No jolt of electricity coursing up his arm. No burning need to trace every inch of her until he knew her body by heart. Not even any hopefulness or interested pertaining to the child growing in her womb.

That, more than anything, worried Draco. When the witch had been pregnant with Scorpius, Draco had been beside himself. In fact, that had probably been the last time he'd affectionately or voluntarily touched her. When his son had been growing inside her, he'd smooth his hands over her swollen midriff every single day, smiling at the thought of his boy growing strong, smirking when the little tyke had kicked his hands through Astoria's skin. He'd doted on her then, he remembered. Getting the door for her everywhere they went. Tucking her into her chair, fussing over her like a mother hen over a chick, ensuring she was safe and comfortable and warm enough, but not to hot, and ensuring she was given anything she wanted to eat, anything she craved.

He remembered massaging her ankles and brushing her hair, and once – when she'd been too big to bend down and do it herself – he'd even helped her apply Hair-Removal lotion to her legs in preparation for the birth, the silly witch not wanting the midwife to see her with hair legs. Yet, almost since the minute of Scorpius's birth, Draco couldn't remember a single time that he'd even been all that nice to his wife. He tended to be tired and cranky when he got home from work, usually as a result of Granger riding his arse about paperwork, or bitching him out about needing more information to complete her research for whatever new legislation she was drafting, or having cussed him for a fool whenever he got hurt in the line of duty.

He usually put on a smile for Scorpius, spending most evenings with the boy until he tucked him into bed, and then he tended to spend a while with his parents, chatting with his mother and talking business or politics with his father. He couldn't remember the last time he and Astoria had even had a conversation that hadn't been about Socrpius, or hadn't been a fight. Draco frowned, trying to remember what they even fought about so frequently.

She tended to nitpick him about things, he supposed. And she whined about her friends and her enemies in the upper circles, and she whine about the fashion of the wizarding world, and about muggle influences, but it was all just frivolous nonsense. Lifting his hand from her once more, Draco shook his head slowly from side to side, resting back against his pillows once more and watching the way the witch stirred a little, grizzling and shuffling restlessly, beginning to chase him across the bed as she did most nights.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Draco didn't move out of her reach or roll away from her. He just watched. She settled when her hand brushed his shoulder, almost as though she just wanted to know he was still there. As though she just wanted a tiny bit of his attention.

Had he been so rotten a husband as to drive her into the arms of another? He supposed he must have. He couldn't honestly say he cared about her day to day dealings or complaints. Indeed, he couldn't say her cared about her problems at all, unless they pertained to Scorpius or were things that might affect the perception the wizarding world had of the Malfoy name.

Frowning, Draco looked away from her to stare at the ceiling. He was exhausted. He needed sleep. But he doubted he was going to get much tonight. Sighing, Draco threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed and stood. Pulling his robe on and stuffing his feet into his slippers, Draco left the room without looking back at his wife.

As such, he didn't see the way she slowly opened her eyes to watch him leave through the blur of tears.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Narcissa Malfoy paced the study anxiously, pouring over the marriage contract she'd had drawn up following her discovery of Aurelian's existence. She was certain that there were no loopholes that Astoria could exploit to try and take Scorpius from them in the impending divorce. She'd been very careful about the wording, knowing that there would eventually come a day when the world would realise that Aurelian Granger was the illegitimate son of Draco Malfoy.

She was prepared, she was sure, but she needed to check again. She couldn't let the simpering little bitch steal their boy, and Hermione had made some good points about whom a judge was most likely to award custody to even before it came to light about Aurelian. Astoria was unemployed, and she had more time to spend with Scorpius than Draco did, though if it really came down to it, Draco hardly  _needed_ to work, and he  _could_  quit the position with the Ministry for the sake of retaining custody on those grounds. However, Astoria was Scorpius's mother, and judges so very rarely liked to part children from their mothers. No matter the wording that the wretch couldn't take their money over Aurelian - and she'd worded that  _just so_  - there was no guarantee that would ensure she couldn't take the boy, even if she couldn't take the money.

"What has got you in such a snit, Cissy?" Lucius drawled from the door and Narcissa looked over at her husband, surprised to see him awake so late and feeling rather like a deer in the headlights when she looked up from the contract, her wand aimed threateningly. She supposed she looked rather like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and Narcissa spotted the glint in her husband's eyes that belied his piqued curiosity at her reaction.

Blast it all, Lucius  _never_  liked being kept out of the loop and had been known to delve his nose into anything and everything when his curiosity was piqued. She needed to throw him off the scent, and quickly, lest he discover that he actually had two grandsons, rather than one. If Narcissa Malfoy knew anything, it was that Lucius would  _not_  be supportive of the fact that she'd been dipping into their vault to provide for Draco's illegitimate son with a mudblood. Especially when Lucius had been kept out of that secret for five long years.

She knew she shouldn't be surprised to see the man, despite her startled state. Lucius was no fool. And he never liked it when she wasn't abed beside him. He'd have woken up the minute she rolled out of bed, she suspected. And when she hadn't returned from the bathroom or the kitchens in a timely fashion, he'd come looking. She wondered what he might do if she pointed out that he was getting predictable and daring to show that he cared.

"Go back to bed, darling," Narcissa tried to dissuade him from prying, though she doubted it would do much good.

Lucius propped his shoulder against the door frame, his grey silk robe hanging open to reveal a still-trim and muscular chest and washboard stomach, despite their advancing years. He smirked at her as though she'd amused him with her suggestion, ever reminding her of a bit cat who's just come across prey. When they'd been young and virulent, Narcissa had  _adored_  that look on his face. She loved feeling like the ball of yarn the cat just couldn't resist playing with to watch it unravel.

Merlin, she'd love to let him unravel her all over again when he smirked at her like that.

"I'm hardly going to just trundle myself back to bed when you're digging through the drawer with the marriage contracts, Cissy," he smirked at her. "Cold feet, after all these years?"

Narcissa gasped, scandalized at the very suggestion and thinking about flinging something heavy at him just for the spite of daring to ask such a question.

"You, Mr Malfoy, will be my husband and the only man I am interested in sharing my life with until the day we're both dead and buried, and then just a little while after. How  _dare_  you imply that I would be looking for loopholes in our contract?" Narcissa put her hands on her hips, glaring at the man.

She rather hated how much she loved it when he gave her that smirk, entirely the embodiment of the cat who got the cream.

"I'm touched," he smirked, always ready to taunt her.

"You should be flattered," Narcissa said, sniffing imperiously. "Especially since I know for a fact that there are  _three_  loopholes I could use should I wish to be rid of you, dear."

"Three?" he scowled, narrowing his eyes on her.

"Mmmm," Narcissa pressed her lips together, trying to hide her smirk, knowing it would just stir him up, even though it was what she wanted.

"There'll be three of my handprints glowing on your arse if you don't wipe that look off your face, Mrs Malfoy," he threatened wickedly and Narcissa rather hated the way her stomach flipped, even after all these years.

"You wouldn't dare," she raised her chin defiantly.

Lucius smirked, pushing away from the door and crossing the room with all the slow and predatory grace of a sleek panther. He moved until he invaded her personal space, standing so close that his chest brushed hers and he stared down his nose at her like the condescending arse he was. Narcissa held her ground, staring him down, just daring him to do it.

" _What_  are you doing out of bed at this hour, Mrs Malfoy?" he wanted to know, his voice low and intimate, his eyes gleaming with the promise of all the wicked things he might do to her when he'd lured her back to their bedroom.

"I'm sure it's not important right now," Narcissa said breathlessly, temporarily forgetting that she'd come here with a purpose.

Lucius's lips twitched. "You are digging through the contracts drawer for an unimportant reason in the middle of the night?" he clucked his tongue, smirking wickedly. "Mrs Malfoy, I daresay that I have  _distracted_  you."

Narcissa knew it was true when he reached out and smoothed his cool hands over her shoulders and down the full length of her arms, making her tremble like a newborn foal, before he snatched the scroll of parchment from her hands and stepped back with his prize.

Bugger.

Putting her hands on her hips as Lucius crossed the room with his prize and unfurled it on his desk, Narcissa shook her head in annoyance with the ponce of a wizard she'd married. How dare he  _still_  be able to make her weak in the knees, even after all this time?

"Draco's marriage contract?" Lucius frowned as he delicately slid his reading glasses onto the end of his nose to peruse the parchment before arching one eyebrow and staring at her over their rim.

Merlin curse him for looking so utterly magnificent in them, too. How dare any man look that regal in his house-coat and his reading glasses?

"Yes," she nodded, her brow furrowing as he rustled the parchment at her, clearly recognizing that she'd been inundated with desire and had become entirely distracted by him.

He smirked at her when Narcissa blinked a few times, trying to push aside her less than appropriate fantasies to focus on the discussion at hand. Lucius was still eyeing her, waiting for her to explain herself, and Narcissa sighed, supposing it had only been a matter of time before she would have to inform him of the suspected infidelity Astoria had committed.

Crossing the room quickly, Narcissa rounded the desk and lowered herself into Lucius's lap, pleased when he opened his arms and allowed the contact despite being outside their bedroom.

"What's this about, Narcissa?" he asked quietly by her ear, all traces of teasing leaving his tone as he leaned against her back and peered over her shoulder, watching her trace her finger over the sections of the contract, looking for the parts about custody and infidelity.

Narcissa tapped the part about infidelity when she found it, and Lucius frowned.

"You suspect the boy is having an affair?" Lucius asked. "Because he was out so late the other night? Come now, darling, if he were having a torrid affair, he would hardly take Scorpius along with him. Nothing would kill the mood faster than having a sulky tot underfoot."

"It's not Draco's infidelity I am suspicious of," Narcissa said quietly.

"Astoria?" Lucius asked, clearly surprised. "Surely she would not be so foolish."

Narcissa sighed, leaning back against Lucius's chest, and resting her head against his shoulder. She turned her head a little, pressing her nose to the side of his neck and breathing in his familiar scent, drawing comfort from him. He smoothed his hands around her midriff in response, and Narcissa smiled to herself just a little when he made sure to slide his hands under the hem of her night-gown to trace them across her skin.

"As you know, the girl is pregnant," Narcissa said softly. "And while we'd all just thought that she and Draco had been a little careless with their contraceptives, it seems there is another contender as the child's father. She was seen the other day exiting the office of Adrian Pucey, after having been overheard screaming at him about what they were going to do. Based on that, in addition to someone noting that after the same incident, Astoria's skirt was a little crooked, and Adrian's lips stained a certain shade of red that our daughter-in-law favours, I suspect the girl has been having an affair with Pucey and that she knows  _he_  is the father of the child she carries."

Lucius tensed under her.

"Why would she stray from Draco?" he asked, and Narcissa could hear the frown in his voice.

"You know he is hardly affectionate with her, darling," Narcissa whispered. "He never has been. Excepting when she was pregnant with Scorpius, Draco rarely has any interest in her."

"He's not shagging her?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, no, I believe he is… or he had been up until he heard about her possible infidelity. No, it's not that they don't shag, it's that he is rather like you and I, love. He doesn't like to touch her inappropriately outside of the bedroom. He rarely holds her hand or reaches for her. He doesn't allow her to kiss him when they part ways. You know he doesn't like to be touched."

Lucius sighed.

"You believe the girl went elsewhere for the attention she wasn't getting from him?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Narcissa admitted. "Until I can ensure that a paternity test is taken during her next appointment with the healers, I cannot be certain, but  _if_  she has been unfaithful, I do not doubt that Draco will divorce her. I needed to double-check the wording regarding custody of Scorpius should they divorce."

Lucius was silent as she picked up the contract once more, tracing her eyes over it.

"There will be no divorce or custody battle, Cissy," Lucius spoke up when she knew what she wanted to know. Narcissa suspected that, just as she had done, he'd extrapolated that should such an event take place, the girl very well  _could_  steal their grandson away.

"Darling, I… are you sure that's wise?" she asked, knowing exactly what he had in mind.

"The last thing the Malfoy family needs is another scandal," Lucius said quietly. " _If_ it is found that the child she carries is not Draco's, I will…. Take care of the problem."

"And put Scorpius through the heartache of growing up motherless?" Narcissa challenged, turning to meet his gaze even as an image flashed in her mind of just who might make a wonderful replacement to play mother to their grandson – an image of a woman already raising one of Draco's sons.

"There are countless women within wizarding society who would leap at the chance to marry Draco and help raise Scorpius should he be widowed, love," Lucius reminded her softly.

Narcissa frowned, not at all liking the notion of needing to accept and train another daughter-in-law.

"We will need to await the results of the paternity test, first," Narcissa sighed. "It may be that my suspicions are unfounded."

"Are they ever unfounded, love?" Lucius challenged.

Narcissa's lips twitched. No, it was rare indeed that her instincts led her astray, and she had a gut feeling that Astoria was a cheating little whore. Indeed, the only time she had been  _wrong_  about such things had been when she'd found herself standing in a hospital birthing suite at St. Mungo's five years ago, and a clever little mudblood had plonked an adorable baby boy into her arms.

As she leaned against Lucius's chest and let him kiss her neck while his hands wandered her skin to cup her breasts, Narcissa knew the only time she'd even been wrong about a situation like this was when she'd foolishly tried to silence Hermione Granger and had sought to hide their grandson from the world, rather than embracing the witch as the mother of their grandson, and perhaps, the only witch who would ever make Draco happy. It had been a mistake to do so, rather than looking past her blood status and insisting that Draco claim Hermione and Aurelian.

A mistake she most certainly would  _not_  be making again.


	10. Chapter 9

The pitter patter of a child's feet racing down the hall outside her bedroom and the bang of her bedroom door as it was flung wide were the symphony of sounds that roused Hermione Grange from slumber far later than usual.

"Mummy?" Aurelian Granger asked loudly, zooming across the room and jumping up on Hermione's bed. "Mummy? Are you awake? We're going to be late!"

Hermione blinked her eyes open as her son plonked himself down to sit on her chest, his little hands delving into her wild curls. His platinum blond hair and his grey eyes swam into focus and Hermione smiled gently at the child who'd stolen her heart.

"Good morning, Aurey," she said softly.

"Hi, Mummy," Aurelian smiled. "We're late."

Hermione glanced at the clock on her nightstand, frowning when she saw it was already nine o'clock.

"Oh, bother," she sighed, frowning.

"We should skip work today, Mummy," Aurelian said wisely. "You promised you'd visit Aunt Ginny last night, but then we came here instead. And I'm tired. And you're tired, else you wouldn't sleep so late."

Hermine frowned for a moment, wondering if it was the exhaustion that made her son sound so wise, or if he was simply the cleverest boy in the world. She hadn't taken a day off work in almost as long as she could remember, now that she thought about it. Maybe she  _should_  take the day off. In addition to feeling like rubbish and needing to visit Ginny, Hermione knew that if she went in to work today, things would just be awkward. Malfoy had kissed her forehead. Knowing him, he would be his usual, pompous, stand-offish self, and things between them would just be tense until they both stopped thinking about it, or until some new creature was captured, or his was almost killed going after something else. She needed to study the Jabberwalkie, but Aurelian was right. She was tired. And the Jabberwalkie didn't seem the type of creature she should be attempting to study when she was tired. She'd make a stupid mistake, get herself killed, and then poor Aurey would be orphaned, and Hermione couldn't bear the thought.

No, Aurelian was right. Skipping work today was a glorious idea.

"That's a wonderful suggestion, darling," Hermione smiled at the small boy still sitting on her chest and looking into her face with big puppy dog eyes. "Hop off me and crawl into bed here, won't you? I'll Floo Aunt Luna at work and let her know I won't be in today, and then we'll snuggle and have a few more hours sleep, how about that?"

"Really?" Aurelian asked, lighting up with happiness before he dove across the bed and began worming his way under the covers.

"Really, really," Hermione couldn't help grinning at the child. She rose quickly and crossed to the small hearth fire across the room.

Scooping out a small pinch of Floo Powder, Hermione got down on her knees in front of the fireplace, for the millionth time thinking as she did that she really needed to invent a better means of communication between the wizarding world. Muggles had telephones, and even mobile phones, and surely there was a way to keep the magic in their blood and in their buildings from interfering with it.

"Luna?" Hermione called through the fireplace, Floo calling directly to Luna's office.

She almost choked on a mouthful of ash when Luna spun at her desk, her cheeks turning crimson and her lipstick smeared. Rolf Scamander looked sheepish behind Luna, and his hair was all in a mess thanks to the little blonde running her fingers through it.

"Hermione?" Luna asked, sounding a little breathless.

"Good morning," Hermione said, smirking widely. "Hi, Rolf."

"Granger," Rolf said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to wipe the lipstick from his mouth.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione said, though she couldn't help practically bouncing with happiness to know that these two were  _finally_  beginning to get something going between them after years of flirtation. "I was just calling in to let you know I'm taking the day off to be with Aurelian."

"Of course, Granger," Rolf said, since he was technically head of the department. "You haven't had a day off in months. All year, even. Be with your kid, yeah?"

"Thanks. Listen, there's a new creature in my office that Malfoy brought in yesterday, I don't know if you've already seen it, or if he's told you. It's a Jabberwalkie. I don't want anyone going near it, alright. It's got a venomous bite, and it flings poison spines."

"You found one?" Luna asked, her eyes lighting up in a way that suggested she was going to ignore what Hermione had said about the venom and the poison spines.

"Malfoy found one," Hermione corrected. "And almost died getting it back here. He was bitten, and hit with the spines,  _and_  he picked up a Daggertooth Dusk mushroom pod chasing the little bugger. Be careful if you go near the Jabberwalkie, and maybe be careful if you go near Malfoy, too. The git will probably be grumpy and surly today."

"Ah," Rolf grinned. "The real reason you're taking the day off. Had to save his life again, did you?"

Hermione grinned.

"Yes, and he wasn't even the tiniest bit grateful."

"Fuck off, I wasn't," Malfoy voice came from somewhere and Hermione watched Luna and Rolf both turn toward the door.

"You swore at me," Hermione argued with the blond wizard, though she couldn't see him anywhere.

"And will again. Piss off and play with your kid, slacker. And what's this? You two are snogging in the office now?" Malfoy drawled, taunting the other two.

"Why did I hire you again?" Rolf asked mildly of Malfoy, though he was smirking a little.

"Because I made an enormous donation to keep the department afloat when the rest of the Ministry wanted to shut it down rather than getting it back up and running following the Dark Lord's fall?" Malfoy drawled. "I was coming to warn you lot about the Jabberwalkie, but Granger's beat me to it. I'm going hunting today, since Granger's too slack to come to work and read the report I wrote up on the Jabberwalkie. You want me to go after anything in particular?"

"You could see if you can hunt down the Crumple Horned Snorkack," Luna lit up, grinning.

Malfoy strolled into view for the sole purpose of meeting Hermione's gaze through the Floo so they could share an eye-roll at the mention of the fantastical beasts that Luna maintained to this day, must exist.

"I need a Chelursa to study for an upcoming environmental grant to prevent development of the north east section of the Forbidden Forest, near Hogsmeade," she told the wizard, her forehead tingling all over again as a result of seeing Malfoy again.

He looked tired, she noticed, but she didn't mention it or draw any more attention to the fact that she'd been alone with him in her lab last night. She also worked to keep the blush from her cheeks, grateful the Floo couldn't show the way she flushed when she recalled with startling clarity just what had occurred between them the night Aurelian had been conceived.

"I need proof that there are still Hinkypunks in Wales," Rolf said. "I was going to take a look myself a bit later today, if you want to come along?"

"I'll see what I can do. If I'm not back before lunch, assume I'm not coming with you," Malfoy nodded. "Granger, don't you have a kid to feed?"

"He's sleeping," Hermione said. "Where's yours?"

"With my Mother and my wife," Malfoy said. "There's some sort of appointment with the Healers, today."

He shot her a significant look, and Hermione knew that look meant that Astoria had her check-up today.

"I thought that wasn't until next Tuesday," Hermione frowned at him, ignoring the way Luna looked intrigued by their cordiality.

"Mother had it pushed forward to today. Astoria wasn't well this morning," Draco told her, frowning a little.

"Wasn't well in what way?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"She was hysterical. Didn't want to let me leave for work. Crying. Shouting. Vomiting. It wasn't pretty."

"When's her appointment?" Hermione asked. "What time? That… Harry mentioned last night that Ginny was suffering the same thing."

"Thought you went by to see her?" Draco asked, and Hermione's knees were beginning to ache from the prolonged time spent on them to make the Floo call.

"I forgot after I got into an argument with my mother when I collected Aurey. I'll go and see her today. I hope it wasn't something contagious that Harry's passed to you, that you've passed to Astoria."

Malfoy frowned.

"I saw Potter late last night after he hadn't seen his wife in hours. No way anything contagious he'd picked up from her could pass to me and me to Astoria without infecting him and me."

"It might be a strain of something targeting the pregnancy hormones in a witch's body. I need to go and see Ginny. When is Astoria's appointment?"

"Eleven, I think," Draco said.

"Right. Good. I'll speak with your mother about it after the appointment."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on her. "You're not sick," he pointed out.

"No, but I did oversleep and do feel wretched," Hermione frowned. "But I'm not pregnant. If this is targeting pregnancy hormones, rather than just witches, I'd be fine. Is your mother alright?"

Draco nodded. "She seemed fine at breakfast," he said, frowning. "Maybe I should check on her."

"I'm sure she's fine. She's beyond even the ability to conceive more children. She'd be immune, the same as you, Harry, and your father."

Malfoy made a face at her over the idea of discussing his mother's menopausal state, but he nodded again.

"Well, that's… concerning," Luna piped up. "Let us know what you learn, won't you, Hermione?"

"I'll keep you posted. I'll be in tomorrow, barring disaster. Malfoy, do  _try_  to keep from getting hurt in the field today. I won't be there to patch you up when you return, half-dead."

"It's that concern for me that will be your undoing one day, Granger," he smirked wickedly before nodding to Rolf and Luna, and strolling out of the room.

"I'm going to check on Aurey, and then get ready to go and see Ginny," Hermione told Luna and Rolf, smiling at them. "You two have fun, yeah?"

"We will," Luna promised, grinning brilliantly while Rolf laughed nervously and looked sheepish all over again.

Hermione pulled her head out of the fire before they could reply, shaking her head to dislodge any stray ash before looking over at the bed. Aurelian was still sitting up and watching her make her Floo call, looking interested, his little brow furrowed with concern.

"Are we going to check on Aunt Ginny, now?" he asked.

"I'll Floo call Uncle Harry quickly to find out how she is today, alright love? If she's doing ok, we'll sleep a little longer, and then we'll pay her a visit, yeah?"

Aurelian nodded, and Hermione's heart clenched to see the small boy looking so worried. Grabbing a pinch more Floo powder, Hermione tried Harry's office first.

"Harry, are you there?" Hermione called.

Harry spun in his chair, looking surprised to see her.

"Hermione? Is everything alright? Why are you Floo calling instead of visiting me?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I'm taking the day off to spend with Aurelian and to call on Ginny later. I'm so sorry we didn't get there last night. I forgot after stopping in with Mum to collect Aurey. We had a slight disagreement and she was harping at me and it slipped my mind."

"That's alright," Harry said. "I figured it was something like that."

"How is she?" Hermione asked.

"Still acting strangely," Harry sighed. "She didn't want to let me leave. She was clinging to me and sobbing into my jumper. I'm worried, Hermione. I've never seen her like this. Even when we lost Fred, she was never hysterical like this."

"I'm worried too," Hermione said. "Malfoy said Astoria was the same way this morning. That she was sobbing and hysterical, and shouting and vomiting. They're taking her in for a check-up and I thought maybe it might be something hitting pregnant witches in particular. Was Ginny sick this morning?"

Harry nodded. "She's been sick most mornings for the past few weeks, though. We both just put it down to morning sickness. It's only been the last few days that she's been acting strangely. You don't think I somehow passed whatever's effecting her to Malfoy, and that he gave it to Astoria?"

"You might've done," Hermione sighed. "I confess, I don't feel spectacular today, either, but I'm just tired. Are you feeling alright."

"I feel fine," Harry nodded. "Shit. Maybe I should go home and check on Ginny."

"You're in the middle of a big case, Harry. I know you've been hot on Dolohov's trail. I'll stop by and collect Ginny to take her in for a check-up. When was her last one?"

"Only a few days ago," Harry said. "Monday, I think. She was fine before that, actually. Merlin, you don't think she picked something up at the hospital, do you?"

"She might've done. If there was something contagious she touched, she might've contracted something. Highly contagious, if she's managed to pass it on to Astoria Malfoy via an hours old pathogen clinging to you, passing to Draco, and then passing to Astoria," Hermione admitted. "I might get dressed and call on Ginny now. It's probably best if we get her checked out right away. We don't want to risk anything harming the baby or potentially causing her to miscarry."

"Blimey," Harry said. "I should go. I'll meet you at my house, yeah?"

"You need to focus on your case, Harry," Hermione reminded him.

"I need to make sure my wife and our unborn child are going to be alright," Harry disagreed. "I'll meet you at my house."

He pulled his head out of the fire, ending the connection, and Hermione sighed, pulling back as well. She glanced longingly at her bed for a moment before chuckling when she saw that Aurelian was in the process of trying to pull the bed up so they could get going that much sooner.

"Run and get dressed, darling," Hermione said to the boy. "I'll finish that. You'll need to be a very good boy and keep Teddy busy today, alright?"

"Ok Mummy," Aurey nodded. "I hope Aunt Ginny's going to be ok. I hope Scorp's mummy is ok, too."

"Me, too, darling," Hermione smiled worriedly at the little boy before he raced out of the room to get dressed. She frowned when he was gone, worried about Ginny. She was worried about Astoria, too, if she was being honest. Technically, the woman was Aurelian's step-mother, and while Hermione was still annoyed with the witch for what she'd said the other day, she didn't wish illness, miscarriage or death on the poor witch.

Straightening and hurrying over to her closet so that she could get dressed, Hermione wondered what it said about the two men that while Harry was rushing home with worry for his wife's safety, Malfoy was planning to venture into the wilderness and leaving his unwell wife to the ravages of an unsympathetic Narcissa Malfoy, and the hands of fate.


	11. Chapter 10

Narcissa Malfoy watched on as Astoria Malfoy was led into the doctor's office for her check -up, tottering and pale though the young woman was. She reached carefully for the arm of the midwife before the woman could enter the room behind her daughter-in-law.

"Madam Malfoy?" Midwife Jenkins asked, her brow furrowing as she looked up to see what Narcissa wanted, taking her eyes off her patient for the first time since they'd arrived.

"When you do her check-up today, I want you to perform a paternity test at the same time," Narcissa said in a very low voice. "Without her knowing."

The midwife's eyes widened.

"I… that could be very dangerous in her current condition, Madam Malfoy. The process would directly expose the foetus to the pathogens Astoria is carrying and might very well lead to miscarriage," Jenkins informed her, lowering her voice to a whisper and shooting another look at Astoria as the young woman climbed up on the bed and heaved a huge sigh of relief at being able to sit down.

"I understand that, but the test  _must_  be performed before the pregnancy progresses any further," Narcissa said sternly. "I have faith that the staff of this hospital will be more than able to care for the witch and the child, no matter the exposure the test risks?"

"I can't perform such a procedure without the patient's consent, Madam Malfoy," Midwife Jenkins whispered. "It's against regulations. I could lose my job, and Astoria could die. The baby could die. It's a safe enough procedure when the mother is healthy, but in her current condition, performing a paternity test risks infecting the baby with whatever pathogens Astoria is carrying, and might even cause the infection to spread inward. It would be better if I were to avoid any chance of opening her flesh, even via the tiny pinprick of a needle to the abdomen."

"Is there no magical means for testing paternity?" Narcissa asked. "No charm or spell that could be performed?"

Jenkins shook her head. "We haven't discovered one, Ma'am. I can't perform the procedure without Astoria's consent."

Narcissa fished a small bag of galleons out of her pocket and pressed them into the other woman's hands.

"I think you can," she said, never looking away from her eyes.

Jenkins looked torn, peering into the room just in time to listen to Astoria vomiting into the sink, having lurched back off the bed almost immediately after taking her seat, thanks to her upset stomach. When Jenkins looked back, Narcissa narrowed her grey eyes on the midwife dangerously and the midwife gulped.

"Yes, Madam Malfoy," she choked out, stuffing the bag of coins into her pocket before hurrying after Astoria, intent on helping her.

Narcissa followed them both inside, holding Scorpius's hand and grateful that the boy was too young to understand the exchange that had taken place. She reached down and scooped the toddler onto her hip before closing the door firmly behind them and awaiting the procedure and the testing the midwife explained she would be doing for the sake of discovering the cause of her current symptoms. Narcissa knew the witch would perform the paternity test under the pretence of the exploratory testing when she described the procedure to Astoria as being a means for testing the baby's blood to ensure that whatever she'd caught wasn't spreading to the baby growing in her womb. She knew that Astoria knew nothing about paternity testing when she nodded her consent to all of the tests before she retched into a bucket she'd been given.

"Mummy ok?" Scorpius asked quietly, clinging to Narcissa's neck tightly and sniffling.

He'd been crying and screaming most of the morning in reaction to his mother's distress, and even Draco hadn't been able to console the boy before Narcissa had packed her son off to work by confiscating her grandson from his arms.

"She'll be alright, darling," Narcissa assured her grandson, though she had no idea if that was actually true. "The healers will run their tests to find out what's wrong with her and then they'll make her better. That's their job, sweetheart."

"Job like Daddy?" Scorpius asked.

"That's right, dear. They have jobs like Daddy does."

"Where's Daddy?" Scorpius asked. "Mummy sick. Daddy comes?"

"He had to go to work, darling. He'd only have been in the way here, and you know how he likes to fuss when he's worried about something. He'd have made a scene."

Scorpius looked rather like he didn't know what making a scene entailed, despite being rather gifted at making scenes himself when he was in a strop. Narcissa might've laughed if she wasn't so intent on watching the midwife beginning to perform her tests on Astoria. The young mother began to cry softly again as the tests were performed, and Narcissa wondered, for a terrible moment, if the woman knew that blood had to be drawn from the baby to perform a paternity test. She wondered if perhaps the girl had already had the test performed upon her once.

She wondered if the wretched girl had actually been foolish enough to have had an affair with Pucey. Narcissa wanted to believe it wasn't true. She wanted to believe that, for all their problems, the girl wouldn't have risked her reputation or Draco's just for a quick shag on an office desk.

Still holding the small boy in her arms, Narcissa watched the midwife administer a sedative when Astoria began to grow hysterical all over again. It seemed to be part of whatever had infected her to put her so out of sorts this morning, but she couldn't be certain. In any case, the sedative would help them to perform their tests without being flailed at, screamed at, or vomited on.

"Madam Malfoy?" Healer Jenkins asked quietly when she'd drawn her bloods and was intending to begin testing. "If you wish for me to perform a paternity test, you'll need to provide a blood sample of Draco's for me to compare it to."

"I have it here," Narcissa said, digging a small phial out of the pocket of her robes.

"I can return shortly with the results," Jenkins said.

"I need to watch the testing being performed," Narcissa insisted.

"Madam Malfoy, it's against protocol to allow patients, and the family or patients into our labs," Jenkins said.

"And I'm sure it's against protocol for hospital staff to accept bribes to perform procedures without properly informing the patient of the risks, and without explaining what those procedures are for," Narcissa sniffed.

Jenkins paled.

"Follow me, Ma'am. It would be for the best if Scorpius was to remain outside the lab, Mrs Malfoy. He risks exposure to a good many things inside the lab."

Narcissa nodded, looking at the boy for a moment. She knew he wouldn't remain with his mother, and Lucius and Draco were both at work.

"He'll wait outside like a good little boy, won't you, darling?" Narcissa asked.

Scorpius sniffled again, looking at her with big grey eyes that so matched her sons. Jenkins didn't look convinced, but she nodded before leading them both out of the hospital room and down the hall. The sound of hysterical sobbing greeted them, and Narcissa had to pressed herself flat against the wall when some healers rushed by wheeling a gurney carrying a sobbing and screaming Ginevra Potter.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were hurrying along in their wake. Potter didn't even stop to spare her a glance, but Hermione did.

"Narcissa?" the girl asked, holding the hands of two small blond boys.

"Hello, Mrs Malfoy," Aurelian greeted her smartly, smiling widely and dropping his mother's hands to close the distance between the two of them. Narcissa smiled for a moment.

"Good morning, Aurelian. Good Morning, Edward," she said, smiling politely despite the churning, nagging gnaw deep in her gut that in short order she would find out once and for all what might need to be done about her daughter in law.

"Great Aunt Narcissa," Edward Lupin smiled politely, bowing over her hand and kissing it the way Andromeda had taught him was polite. Aurelian copied the slightly older boy, and Scorpius squirmed to be let down, clearly wanting to say hello to his half-brother and his cousin.

"Hey Scorp," Aurelien grinned when the boy.

"Hello," Scorpius smiled.

"Cousin Scorpius," Edward grinned as well. "What are you doing here?"

"Mummy's sick," the boy said before looking up at Narcissa.

"Is she going to be alright?" Hermione asked quietly.

"They're running the tests," Narcissa said. "I need to accompany Midwife Jenkins down to the lab while the test is performed. She's indicated that it would be dangerous for Scorpius to enter the lab, but I don't trust her not to fib about the results if they are unfavourable."

She gave the younger witch a meaningful look, and Granger nodded, clearly realising she meant that Narcissa doubted Jenkins would be truthful about the results of the paternity test if they came back negative for the baby being Draco's progeny. She would also need to perform a memory charms on the midwife when they knew, to ensure there would be no trace of them knowing the paternity of the baby, nor of them doubting it, should their daughter-in-law mysteriously disappear if the results proved negative.

"I'm already watching Aurelian and Teddy," Hermione shrugged. "I can mind Scorpius too."

"Thank you," Narcissa smiled sincerely. "I'll see you shortly. We'll talk. Scorpius, darling? Stay with Ms Granger and be a good boy for her, won't you?"

"Yes, Grandmother," Scorpius nodded.

"Are you coming back, Aunt?" Edward asked politely.

"Soon, dear. I need to speak with the healers about your Aunt Astoria."

All three small blond boys smiled and nodded, though she was sure they didn't grasp the situation.

"Good luck," Hermione whispered, collecting her charges once more.

Narcissa nodded and followed after the direction the midwife had gone without looking back.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

When Hermione walked into Ginny's hospital room, Harry Potter was beside himself, his hands knotted in his already messy hair while his wife sobbed quietly on the bed.

"Oh, no. What is it? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, eyeing the two of them worriedly.

"They're running some tests," Harry said. "They're… they seem worried, Hermione. They said she's the fifth case this week to have presented earlier in the month perfectly fine, and to return shortly after in hysterics. They rattled off a bunch of numbers about her results, but I didn't understand most of them."

Hermione nodded, propping Scorpius on her hip and crossing the room. Teddy and Aurelian, sensing the tension in the room, stayed quiet, moving carefully to the chair in the corner of the room and both curling up in it together to sit and watch and wait. Picking up Ginny's chart, Hermione scanned her eyes over it carefully, noting the numbers Harry had spoken of and frowning in concern.

"By the looks of these numbers, she's dangerously low regarding blood-sugar, blood-iron levels, and on the amount of estrogen her body is producing. All three of those things need to be functioning normally to assist with her overall health, but also the health and development of the baby."

"So, she's….?" Harry frowned, and Hermione flipped through the medical records the hospital had pulled together after Ginny's last check-up.

"So, she was a little low on those things at her last check up, by the looks of things, and they prescribed her some medication. Has she been taking it?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but she's been vomiting so often that the potions probably didn't have time to properly absorb into her system. Hermione… is she going to die?"

Hermione looked over at her best friend while he held Ginny's hands, pulling the other witch right up out of bed and letting her cling to him like she were a small child, intent on crawling into his lap.

"I don't think so, Harry," Hermione shook her head. "This drip line is infused with a Potion that will rapidly raise her estrogen levels, which should help to stabilise her a little, and that injection they gave her was to stabilise her blood glucose levels. A lot of the symptoms she's been experiencing will have been because of the low glucose, Harry. The healers know what they're doing, though. Trust them. They'll pull her through this."

Harry looked up at her, his green eyes burning with emotions she could hardly name, and Hermione's heart clenched, recognising the look as one she hadn't seen since they're very worst days in that tent, on the run from Voldemort, suffering the full brunt of abuse and negativity brought on by wearing the Horcrux for too long. Desperation. Helplessness. Terror. Without hesitation she reached for him, carding her fingers into his messy black hair, trying to offer him some small semblance of comfort.

"Is she going to lose the baby, Hermione?" Harry asked in a whisper.

Hermione didn't want to answer him. Not when the truth was ugly.

"She might do, Harry. Her estrogen levels are dangerously low for a pregnant woman, and it may have adverse effects on her body's ability to carry and grow a baby," Hermione told her best friend sombrely. "There's no way to know for sure. Depending on how compromised her system is as a result of the deficiencies, she might very well lose the baby."

Ginny cried harder at her words and Harry's eyes closed in silent horror, obviously not even wanting to contemplate the miscarriage of their first child. Hermione didn't blame him. Having had Aurelian and knowing the joys and trials of motherhood, she would never wish miscarriage on anyone, least of all upon her very best friends. A tear slipped from the corner of Harry's eyes trickling down his cheek in his worry, and Hermione wiped it away before Ginny could see.

Harry opened his eyes to look at her gratefully, clearly recognising the silent command that he needed to stay strong for the pretty witch clinging to him so tightly. He tried to smile, though it came out as more of a grimace, and Hermione offered him a sad smile in return.

"Who's this?" Harry asked, frowning when he traced his eyes over her as she still balanced Scorpius on her hip.

Hermione realised he'd just spotted the fact that though they looked so similar, she currently held Scorpius, rather than Aurelian.

"This is Scorpius, Harry," Hermione told her best friend warily, glancing at the boy on her hip before looking over at Teddy and Aurelian in the chair by the bed.

"Scorpius?" Harry prompted.

Hermione bit her lip, recognising the narrow-eyed look her best friend was giving her.

"Scorpius Malfoy," Hermione answered carefully. "Draco and Astoria's son. Astoria has been admitted to hospital with symptoms identical to Ginny's. I just ran into Narcissa outside. She was on the way down to the lab with the healers to look into some of Astoria's blood test results, and she needed someone to mind Scorpius for a few minutes."

Harry's eyes darted over the boy's face carefully, taking in every detail, and Hermione's stomach flipped with terror when he slowly turned his head to trail his eyes over Aurelian, too.

"And she just handed over her grandson to you to mind?" Harry asked. "Just like that?"

"Erm… well, actually, Narcissa and I are friends," Hermione offered weakly. "We frequently have tea. She brought Scorpius along with her a few times, so that he could meet Aurey and they could play together…"

Harry's emerald green eyes darted up to hold her gaze seriously, and in a heartbeat, Hermione realised that he  _knew_. Harry knew.

He knew that Draco Malfoy was Aurelian's father.


	12. Chapter 11

Draco Malfoy was distracted as he trudged through the woods on the hunt for Crumple Horned Snorkacks, and Chelursas. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that in a few hours, he would know whether or not Astoria had been cheating on him. Worse, he couldn't stop thinking that maybe she hadn't and maybe the baby was his, after all. He didn't want to think that. As furious as he was with the idea of her cheating, Draco didn't think he could bear it if she hadn't been, and that he'd just been being a rotten bastard of a husband uninterested in his wife and their unborn child.

What kind of arsehole must he be that he was trudging through the woods like a coward rather than being there and holding his wife's hand while she was distraught and possibly carrying some kind of virus that was targeting pregnant women? What kind of fucked up must he be that his mind kept circling back to the fact that, though she wasn't pregnant, Granger had been out of sorts and feeling unwell enough to take the day off?

When he tripped over a log and stumbled forward, falling on his face in the leaflitter, Draco realised he had a fucking problem. A big one. Huffing as he rolled to his back in the dirt and wondering where the hell he even was, Draco stared up at the canopy of the forest, thinking that he needed to sort out his bloody priorities.

If Astoria  _had_  been cheating on him, he probably fucking deserved it. After all, here he was feeling more concerned that his annoying co-worker might be unwell than he was that his wife could be fucking dying. Hell, he deserved to be cheated on for the mere fact that he didn't even  _like_  his bloody wife.

And he didn't, he realised.

There was nothing about Astoria Greengrass that took his fancy. He'd like to be able to say that they just didn't have much in common and so didn't get along, but it would be a lie. The truth was, he'd never bothered to find out what they had in common. He'd taken her on as his wife the same way he took on anything that was expected of him as a pureblood within wizarding high-society. He'd accepted her as necessary for the station he held, and he'd fucked his heir into her like he was expected to, and beyond that he'd made zero effort.

He didn't know what her favourite flowers were.

He didn't know her favourite colour, or her favourite pass-time. He didn't even know her fucking birthday.

He was a  _horrible_  husband.

No wonder she'd gone running to Pucey. Hell, maybe she hadn't even done that, and he was just an unobservant cunt who had fucked his second kid into her when he was in a bad mood and the urge for sex began to itch. Maybe he was an unfeeling, rotten sod who deserved to be cheated on by his wife, no matter the scandal that would likely ensue. Maybe, if he stopped comparing his wife to Hermione fucking Granger, he wouldn't be in this bloody mess.

But he was, and Draco realised lying there in the dirt that he honestly didn't care whether the baby was his or not, he wanted a divorce. Either way, he wanted a divorce. He couldn't keep crawling into bed beside the woman he didn't give a shit about and just pretending everything was okay. He knew it would be bad form to leave her if she  _was_  carrying his second child, but Merlin's saggy y-fronts, he couldn't keep living like this. Whether she'd had an affair or not was irrelevant. In his mind, it would always feel like she had, and he couldn't tolerate her in his home and in his bed any long. Scorpius might suffer a little with the split of his parents, but the boy was young. He was resilient. He'd bounce back.

Draco didn't doubt that there would be plenty of witches lining up to fill Astoria's place.

Everything would be fine, just as long as he got to keep custody of their son.

"FUCK!" Draco shouted at the sky in frustration when Granger's words about the likelihood of a judge ever granting a father full custody when the mother didn't work, rolled through his head once again.

Why was it always Granger's voice running through his head? Why hadn't he gotten the fuck over this bullshit about that little muggleborn swot? Draco wouldn't claim to have ever been in love with her, or that he'd fancied her, but Merlin's little green apples, he'd been paying attention to her since they'd been just eleven years old.

More than half his life had been spent being aware of her comings and goings, and heeding the things she said as being nothing shy of gospel because she was so bloody clever. In school, half of his facts had been delivered right into his lap off the tip of her tongue and now, in adulthood, most of his daily dealings involved keeping her happy and fighting with her like they were husband and wife.

The thought rocked Draco to the core and had he not already been flat on his back in the dirt, he expected he'd have ended up there at the realisation. He fought with that witch and got all riled up and furious and utterly unrefined in her company the way he was  _supposed_  to be able to do with his wife. He screamed at her, threatened her, let her patch him up when he was minutes from death, let her berate him, snarl at him, snap at him, brow-beat him, even boss his around. He put his own life in danger just to bring her whatever bloody creature she needed for her research and he trusted her to patch him up when he got injured.

Merlin, he'd even kissed her bloody forehead last night and  _that_  was something he'd never done to any witch before.

Fuck!

"This is ridiculous," Draco muttered to himself. "It's sodding  _Granger_. I don't fancy Granger!"

He scrubbed a hand over his face, frowning fiercely. He didn't. He didn't fancy her. He respected her, and he'd kissed her forehead in gratitude because she'd saved his life and because he'd been exhausted. Nothing more.

As he laid there in the dirt, the memory of waking up all tangled up with her on the couch at her house a few nights ago swam through his mind and Draco frowned when his body twitched at the thought of how he'd had his hands inside her clothes, and he'd been curled into her warmth and breathing in her sweet scent. His cock stirred in his trouser and Draco lifted his head to glare down the length of his body at the traitorous appendage.

"What are you playing at?" he growled at the excitable thing. "She's not for you. Married, remember?"

His cock clearly didn't care about marriages or loyalty, or being bloody respectable.

"I don't fancy her," he insisted.

His cock throbbed in his pants and Draco got the distinct feeling that his body believed he didn't have to fancy her to want to fuck her. And Merlin's merciful mingers, he didn't want to bloody well  _fuck_  her! Circe's wings, he'd be drawn and quartered for thinking such a thing! Draco could just imagine his father's face if he came home announcing his intent to divorce the pureblooded princess Astoria Greengrass in favour of fucking muggleborn Hermione sodding Granger, who came in-built with a bastard child and all the scandal of such a controversial match. He'd be murdered before he could get a word in, he expected.

"Ridiculous," Draco muttered, pressing his hands over his face and dropping his head back to the ground as he tried to forget the feel of Granger's tight body curled beneath his.

An image swam in his mind, despite his best efforts, of that wicked little witch straddling him, naked and bouncing on his cock in his townhouse bedroom. Draco groaned, his cock throbbing painfully where it was restrained inside his trousers. Merlin's bollocks, but the imaginary scene  _felt_  so fucking real. He could almost feel the heat of her body, the scratch of her nails raking over his chest. He could see her, behind his eyes, her head tipped back, her mouth pulled into a wicked smile, her eyes closed as she rode him.

"FUCK!" Draco shouted again, loathing himself when he found his hand freeing his cock from the restraints of his trousers while the daydream played like a vivid memory behind his eyes.

He could feel it, he'd swear. The squeeze of her tight pussy around his cock, the tickle of her long curls brushing his chest and his neck when she leaned over and stole a kiss from his lips. Salazar's serpents, but it felt so bloody real. His hand was tight on his cock as he let the daydream sweep him up and Draco's breath grew harsh and pained as he raced toward release far faster than he was entirely comfortable with. Letting his mind run away with him, he imagined what it would be like to pin that bossy know-it-all to the bed beneath him and hard-fuck her into the headboard until she screamed his name.

He groaned as he came, his heart hammering inside his chest and a terrible guilt saturating him when he realised what he'd done.

"FUCKING HELL!" he shouted again, grateful he was alone in the woods and that no one was privy to his thoughts and his shame.

Merlin's tits, he was fucked up.

His poor wife was suffering in a hospital bed, and here he was, already wanking off to thoughts of another woman. Why didn't he just sign her fucking death certificate as he shunted her aside? Disgusted with himself, Draco flicked his wand to clean up the mess he'd made of his hunting uniform and tucked himself safely back inside his trousers. Angrily, he leapt to his feet, glaring around the forest in the vague hope of finding something –  _anything –_ to take his mind off what he'd just done and what a wretched fucking cunt he was turning out to be.

Fortunately, he wasn't as alone as he'd thought. As evidenced when a hungry Chelursa pounced on him from above, lethal claws slicing right through is protective leather hunting garb and spilling his blood on the forest floor.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Narcissa Malfoy stood beside Midwife Jenkins as she performed the paternity test, her keen grey eyes taking in every detail of the test process and every move the nervous midwife made. It was more than clear that the young healer was intimidated by her presence, and that she was nervous about the results, obviously fearing for Astoria should the test show that the child she carried was not Draco's.

"Do you have the blood sample from Draco?" Midwife Jenkins asked.

"Yes," Narcissa said, dipping her hand into her pocket and retrieving the phial of Draco's blood that her son had given her that morning. She offered it to the midwife, and Jenkins uncorked it, adding the blood to the testing solution.

"Thank you," the healer said softly, and the STRs began to form.

Narcissa held her breath as she watched. Jenkins released a shuddering breath after a few long minutes of tense silence and Narcissa had her answer.

"They're not a match," Jenkins said softly. "Draco is not the father of Astoria's baby."

Narcissa nodded sharply.

"As I suspected," she said.

Jenkins turned toward her, her eyes glimmering with worry, but Narcissa already had her wand out of her pocket.

" _Obliviate_ ," she whispered, carefully removing all memories of their interactions that revolved around paternity from the midwife's mind before she collected the test results and slipped them into her pocket.

"Mrs Malfoy?" Jenkins asked after blinking stupidly a few times. "What are you doing down here, Ma'am? I assure you, I'll bring you to results about Astoria's illness shortly."

"Of course," Narcissa smiled simperingly. "I'm just so worried for my daughter-in-law. I do hope she's receiving the very best care."

"Nothing less, Ma'am," Jenkins said. "Please wait outside while I perform the tests. I can't allow you in here. You might catch something, you see?"

Narcissa smiled, squaring her shoulders and nodding before she left the room. Inside, her rage began to stew. How dare that wretched girl cheat on Draco? How dare she go behind his back and shag another man. The true identity of her lover would be revealed, in time, just as soon as Narcissa confronted the girl with the results and spoke with Draco about his intentions. Until then, she would just have to begin plotting the girl's demise in the most painful and least traceable means she knew how. Stalking back through the hospital, Narcissa was thinking it might be high time she had another discussion with the girl who  _should_  have been her daughter-in-law.

Narcissa curled her lip to herself in fury when she realised what a mess their lives were about to become, and while she was rightfully furious with Astoria for what she had done, Narcissa couldn't help thinking she was more than a little to blame.

She'd known when she'd begun arranging the marriage that Draco hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of his nuptials, and she'd known that there were other witches he'd have preferred. Other witches she'd considered less than suitable. Merlin curse it all, she'd  _known_  for years and years that the boy had an unnatural curiosity about the mudblood witch he'd shared a classroom with. She hadn't been at all surprised when she'd invaded Hermione's hospital room five years ago to learn that her son had shagged the curly-haired little witch.

And like a fool, she'd ignored the boy's interest in the mudblood, insisted on keeping the entire ordeal a secret, and forced both Hermione and Aurelian to live a life of secrecy and deceit. Rather than making use of the occurrence to their advantage as being seen to be moving beyond blood prejudice, she'd swept it all under the rug and hidden it from the world. She'd never told Draco; never told Lucius. She hadn't pushed the boy to claim responsibility for his son. Instead, she'd buried the evidence, and bribed Granger into silence. She'd forced Draco to instead marry the no-good adulteress and complicated everything far more than necessary.

Lucius might've been furious, had Narcissa revealed Granger's treachery, and he might've had a good deal to sneer about, but Merlin, the girl was better for their son than the girl she'd chosen for him. Narcissa Malfoy was not unaccustomed to the bitter taste of regret, but time had not lessened her hatred of it's brackish flavour.

As she stalked through the hospital intent on locating the mother of her firstborn grandson, Narcissa wondered if there might be some way she could undo all of this nonsense. What she wouldn't give for a Time-Turner to go back to that day in Hermione's birthing room, to insist the girl let Draco claim her and their son, to force them to marry for the sake of Aurelian. She couldn't say she regretted Astoria's inclusion in their lives entirely, because Scorpius was a darling boy and she loved him with all of her heart, but she desperately wished there was some way she could just keep Scorpius, keep Aurelian, and put the brilliant young witch together with her son, even if she was a mudblood.

Merlin's pointy hat, she'd give anything to pair the two of them up and she wondered what it might take to make that a reality. Astoria's untimely demise would be first on the agenda. But once the skinny little whore was out of the way, Narcissa Malfoy would just have to see what she could do about setting her son up with a witch far more suited to him, this time around.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Harry…" Hermione began desperately, her voice failing her, her brilliant mind floundering.

He knew.

He knew Draco Malfoy was Aurelian's father. She could see it in those green eyes of his. She could see it in the way he stared first as Scorpius, then Aurelian, then her. When he looked at her, he didn't look angry. He looked too stunned. Hermione begged him with her eyes to remain silent. This was  _not_  the place to discuss this mess.

Right at that moment, Ginny hiccupped in Harry's arms and Hermione smiled sympathetically at the pregnant woman.

"You never told me?" he said quietly, clearly mindful that this wasn't the time or the place to discuss it, but needing to ask just one question, regardless.

"I never told anyone," Hermione admitted in a whisper. "Only Narcissa knows, and only because she was notified by a third party, long since Obliviated."

Harry's brow furrowed as he stared at her and Hermione could see the confusion, the anger, and the hurt beginning to build in his eyes. Like terrible storm clouds rolling over the horizon, his anger would grow and blacken and fill until it was fit to burst free with crack of lightning and booms of thunder and a torrential downpour that might bring her to her knees.

Right at that moment, Ginny's midwife entered the room.

"Merlin, Miss Granger, I'm sorry but you can't have those children in here, right now," Midwife Marrows informed her sternly. "While there's yet to be any evidence that the virus is affecting children or even the unborn babies of the afflicted pregnant mothers, we'd hate to risk it. I'm going to have to ask you to leave, dear."

"I… Of course, Midwife Marrows," Hermione smiled, hiking Scorpius a little higher on her hip as she rose to her feet.

"I've already taken the day off. Why don't we all go to my house, hmmm?" Hermione asked, smiling into Scorpius's face.

"Really?" Aurey asked, smiling widely.

"Of course, darling. Teddy, sweetheart, wouldn't it be fun to come to my place for the day?"

"Can we have muffins?" Teddy asked.

"We'll make some," Hermione smiled. "It will be wonderful. Harry, let me know if you need me to keep him overnight, won't you? Ginny, love, be strong. You'll get through this. I'll see what I can find in my books, alright?"

Ginny nodded, reaching for her and pulling her down to plant a kiss on Hermione's cheek.

"I'll be by tonight when visiting hours are over, Hermione," Harry warned her quietly.

"I'll make dinner," Hermione smiled, though she expected it wouldn't help to calm his mounting anger. "I don't want you two worrying about anything, alright? I'll mind Teddy until this all blows over and I'll do what I can to get to the bottom of this, I promise."

Harry eyed her sternly, but he nodded.

"Aurey, Teddy, let's go, boys. We'll have to take the Floo, what with three of you in tow."

"You're taking Scorpius, too?" Harry asked.

Hermine smiled tightly. "Yes. Narcissa will know to look for him with me, but if she asks, please tell her I've got him and that we're at my place."

"Knows the way, does she?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Intimately," Hermione admitted evenly.

Harry's eyes narrowed a little, but he nodded as Hermione was herded out of the room by Aurey and Teddy. As she hurried down the hall with her heart in her throat, Hermione wondered how badly he might shout at her when he came by later. She didn't imagine it was going to be pleasant. In fact, she suspected it was going to be positively awful. Harry was hardly the angry boy he'd been when they were still at Hogwarts and caught up in the war, but he still didn't like Draco Malfoy. He tolerated him begrudgingly, but he didn't like him. Hermione doubted he would easily accept that she'd slept with Malfoy in order to conceive Aurelian to begin with.

Before they could reach the Floo station, Narcissa came stalking up the hallway in her high heels and Hermione's heart clenched inside her chest at the woman's pinched expression. Bad news, then. Spotting her, Narcissa made a beeline toward her and Hermione smiled tightly.

"Going home?" the woman asked without preamble.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "The midwives think it unsafe to keep the boys here when the pregnant witches are suffering so much. I'll take all three of them home, if you need to stay with Astoria."

"I do need to," Narcissa admitted. "Though she has lost my sympathy."

Hermione pressed her lips together, glancing at the toddler on her hip and hoping he wouldn't understand everything that had been going on.

"Yes, well, we also have another small problem," Hermione said. "Harry saw me holding Scorpius just now. He knows."

Narcissa's frowned pinched even tighter and she traced her eyes over Scorpius and then Aurelian.

"Of course, he does," she sighed after a long beat of silence. "Potter is hardly stupid. It was only a matter of time, I suppose."

"Yes, well, it's hardly an ideal time to bring this little secret to light, I think," Hermione admitted.

"Indeed," Narcissa sighed. "I will see to one catastrophe at a time. In the meantime, are you going to be alright minding the three of them, potentially even overnight? I don't expect things will be particularly cordial at the Manor this evening."

"I can keep Scorpius as long as you need," Hermione offered.

Part of her knew it was a bad idea, and that letting herself be caught up in the mess of Draco's impending divorce was dangerous. But another part of her knew she'd been caught up in Draco Malfoy's mess since the minute she'd walked out of his townhouse five years ago with his son planted in her belly. The fact was that whatever became of Astoria, Draco, and Scorpius was entirely her business because they were the step-mother, father, and half-brother of her own son. She could no more abandon Scorpius than she could Aurelian, especially not to a tense and probably dangerous fight should Astoria be allowed to return home for the evening.

If she was ever allowed to return home at all.

"They won't release her this evening," Hermione warned, her brow furrowing.

"No, I don't intend for them to do so. Nonetheless, it would be better if Draco received this news without little ears listening in, I think."

Hermione nodded.

"Scorpius can stay as long as need be," Hermione promised.

"Thank you, Hermione," Narcissa said sincerely, surprising her when the other woman reached out and cupped her cheek affectionately.

Hermione smiled gently, nodding her head.

"Mummy? Are we going? I want to make muffins! Can we fly today?" Aurelian interrupted.

"I'm coming, Aurey," she laughed. "I'll see you later, Narcissa."

Narcissa nodded, smoothing an affectionate hand over Aurelian's hair before she kissed Scorpius's cheek.

"Let's go home, yeah?" Hermione asked the three small boys, smiling widely at them and trying to put on a brave face, hoping against hope that none of them would know what all had been happening around them.

Teddy and Aurey cheered, dashing for the Floo and Hermione shook her head as she followed them. Gathering a handful of Floo powder, Hermione climbed into the fireplace. Teddy and Aurelian climbed in with her, each of them clinging to her waist tightly and squeezing their eyes closed.

"Hold on tight, boys," she said, clutching Aurelian with one hand and holding onto Scorpius on her hip with the other. She dropped the Floo powder, whisking the four of them away to her country home in a dizzying swirl of soot and green flames.


	13. Chapter 12

The day seemed to pass in a blur for Hermione. It had already been after lunchtime by the time they'd arrived home. After whipping together lunch for three hungry little boys, making muffins with them, and then overseeing things as the three of them played on their child-sized brooms into the afternoon, there hadn't really been time to worry about what she was going to say to Harry or Narcissa.

"Hermione, are you here?" Harry Potter called shortly after Hermione managed to get all three boys bathed, and fed their dinner, and tucked into bed. It was just a little after eight, and Hermione knew Harry must've been asked to leave the hospital.

"In here, Harry," she called in reply, having just moved into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea.

She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he came from the lounge-room and into the kitchen, fixing him a cup of tea, too. She expected he would need it.

"How's Ginny doing?" she asked without looking at her best friend.

"She's resting. The drip-lines and potions they've got her on have stabilised her for the time being, and they're going to run some more tests to figure out what's happening with the witches that's causing these deficiencies in the first place. Oh, thanks," Harry said, accepting the cup of tea she handed him when she turned to face him.

"She's out of the woods, then?" Hermione confirmed.

"No," Harry said. "Not by a long shot. But they've assured me she'll be alright as long as they keep her on the medicines they've got her taking. At least until they figure out the cause of the problem."

Hermione nodded, waving him toward the dining room table across the room.

"Good," she said. "Teddy's fine, in case you were wondering. Aurey came off his broom again today. Skinned his knees."

"Yeah," Harry said. "So… Aurey."

Hermione looked over at him, noting the hardness around his eyes.

"Harry," she began, feeling weary suddenly.

"He's Malfoy's, then?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed.

"You know he is," she said in a small voice. "I know you know. You knew the minute you got a good look at Scorpius."

Harry nodded, not bothering to deny.

"Draco Malfoy is Aurelian's father," he said, seeming like he didn't quite believe it.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't repeat that phrase ever again. To anyone," Hermione said.

"Hermione…. How?"

"The usual way, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You… shagged Malfoy?" Harry asked, making a face at the very idea.

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes as she nodded.

"I…. when? I mean, Aurelian's five, so almost six years ago, obviously but… I just… when?"

"After that do at the Ministry following Ron and I ending things," Hermione sighed. "I didn't take a date, out of respect for the breakup, you remember? And then Ron showed up with a date, and I got drunk and I was jealous and hurt. And Malfoy's mother was fixing him up with Astoria, and he wasn't exactly thrilled about it. We were both very intoxicated. He…. Doesn't remember."

"Doesn't remember?" Harry scoffed. "Hermione, you shagged the bloke and he looks his own son in the face every day, I'm sure. There's no way it hasn't crossed his mind that Aurey is his. They're practically identical, except Aurey's hair is curly."

"He doesn't know. If he suspects, he's certainly never let on. He only met Aurelian officially a few weeks ago. Before then, I'd managed to keep them from ever being in the same room, lest he notice the resemblance and draw conclusions."

"Why?" Harry asked. "He wasn't with Astoria when Aurey was conceived. And he's the boy's father, Hermione. You can't just… keep it from him forever. You work with the man every day!"

"I can't tell him," Hermione frowned at him. "Especially not now. Astoria's just been caught in an affair. Narcissa needed me to mind Scorpius today because she was accompanying the midwife to find out the results of a paternity test for the baby Astoria is carrying. It's not Draco's."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "What kind of crazy bint cheats on  _Malfoy_?"

Hermione shot him a look.

"Finally admitting to a crush on the man for being so fit, Harry?" Hermione teased.

Harry, who'd just taken a sip of his tea, began to choke on the mouthful and Hermione laughed.

"Blimey, Hermione!" he coughed. "Trying to kill me?"

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head.

"You're the one admitting it'd be madness to cheat on the likes of Malfoy," she said.

"Yeah, because his whole family were Death Eaters and are obsessed with image. They're not going to take Astoria having an affair lightly. It must take guts. I think I'd be too chicken. They'll kill her, I'm sure."

"I hope not," Hermione admitted. "Though her death would make keeping custody of Scorpius far easier."

"Hermione!" Harry spluttered.

"What?" she asked defensively. "Look, I'm not saying they should, or that they will. I'm just pointing out the fact that doing away with her would be easier and less messy than a public court hearing and the scandal splashed all over the paper. And the last thing  _I_  need is anyone digging into Draco's love life to make sure he hasn't been having an affair, too."

"Has he? Have you?" Harry asked, frowning at her. "You did seem awfully comfortable with him while you were healing him last night."

"I'm not having an affair with Draco Malfoy," Hemione rolled her eyes. "I had sex with him once. Once! And I ran for it when I woke up next to him. He doesn't remember, thank Merlin, and I would've blocked it out of my memory too, had it not been for getting pregnant."

"Narcissa knows," Harry pointed out. "Did she threaten you to keep it secret?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Though I'd intended to keep in a secret, anyway. Someone in the birth-records office was keeping an eye on things and owled her when Aurey was born. She accosted me in my hospital room, intending to buy my silence. I might've handed her Aurey while I had to pee, and she fell in love with him. We've been having tea together every week since Aurey was born and she makes silent contributions into my bank vault. I believe she's also set up a trust account for Aurelian to use when he's grown."

"Doesn't Lucius notice the missing gold?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so. It comes out of her personal vault – probably her inheritance as one of the last living member of the Black bloodline. She's never suggested that Lucius notices the gold missing. Maybe she just tells him she's spent it on things for herself. I imagine they have so much gold that he doesn't notice unless large chunks go missing."

"And you take her money?" Harry asked. "You let her buy your silence?"

"I tried giving it back, but she got very angry with me," Hermione shrugged. "I spend it if I have to – which is rare. The rest of the time it just sits there collecting interest. I didn't need or want her money, and I had ever intention of taking the secret to my grave, so she couldn't have bought my silence, anyway."

"I just can't believe you shagged Malfoy," Harry muttered.

Hermione swatted him.

"I was drunk," she said. "Drunk, and lonely, and angry and he was there. And I didn't tell you because I thought you would be angry with me and I thought you'd make fun of me."

Harry sighed.

"I would've been," he admitted quietly, shaking his head. "The war was still too fresh, back then. I'd have been upset with you for shagging him, and even more so for keeping the baby."

Hermione nodded, sighing.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now, I think you need to tell him the truth," Harry said seriously. "I'm not yet a father, but knowing I'm going to be makes me look at life differently, Hermione. Malfoy's already a father to Scorpius. What's one more?"

"One more with me, Harry," Hermione said. "The little mudblood who drives him mad at work every other day. The girl who fought against him in the war. The girl who slapped him in third year. Imagine his face if I told him. Imagine how much worse it would be, given that I've kept this from him for so long. The last thing he needs right now is to find out about this, Harry. His wife is having an affair and pregnant to another man. He's about to go through a messy divorce and all the wretchedness of a custody battle. He doesn't need the complication of a colleague and old school rival flouncing in and handing him a second son."

"It's not about what  _he_  needs, Hermione," Harry argued. "Aurey needs a father. I stand in as best I can, but the boy needs a father. And Malfoy's about to get a divorce. If they do something unspeakable to Astoria, or even if they just win custody – and I don't doubt they have the money to do so – then Scorpius is going to need a mother. I saw you with that boy today, Hermione, and I've seen how good a mother you are to Aurey. You even look after Teddy. You're doing a better job of being Scorpius's mother than Astoria, apparently, if she's got time for a torrid affair."

"Do you hear yourself?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now you're trying to fix Malfoy and I up to place happy families? We literally scream at each other at work all day long, nearly tearing each other's hair out. We're terrible for each other. Just because Draco is Aurelian's father does not mean he's ready to be Aurey's Dad, and doesn't mean I'm ready to just let him into my personal life as well as my professional life. You're essentially suggesting he gets a quickie divorce and shacks up with me, Harry."

"Well, why not?" Harry said. "For all that he's still a bloody arrogant bastard, he's improved since Hogwarts, and he turned out alright in the end during the war. You already work with him, and I saw you two bickering. You're practically a couple, anyway. You've got a kid together, Hermione. Can't you see that? He's the father of your son."

"He's also an arrogant, reckless, nut-brained, pompous, cold, spiteful git, Harry. Make no mistake, I don't blame Astoria in the slightest for straying from her vows of fidelity. You don't know Malfoy like I do. He is not an affectionate or even a particularly nice man. He's cold and aloof and distant even with people he likes. I wouldn't consign myself to a life with a man who wouldn't want to kiss me goodbye before leaving for work, or who wouldn't hold my hand in public, or wrap me into his arms when it's cold. He might be a gentleman who gets doors and pulls out chairs and has fine manners, but he's not affectionate, Harry. I wouldn't want to be with someone who was too closed off to show he loved me."

"Then why did you keep his son?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

"Because I didn't want to terminate," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I said the same to Narcissa. My decision to keep Aurey had nothing to do with Draco. I didn't keep him to get money from them, or to lure Draco into wanting me, or to force him to marry me. I kept him because when I found out I was pregnant and got over my moments of terror, I realised I was ready to be a mother."

"And you just never plan to tell him?" Harry challenged. "He's a smart bloke, Hermione. He's going to figure out. Aurey and Scoprius look too alike for him not to see the resemblance."

"Yes, but he doesn't believe we've shagged. He was too drunk, so he doesn't remember. Scorp and Aurey could look as identical as twins and he'd think it odd, but he'd never question whether he was Aurey's father because he doubts there is enough liquor in the world to have gotten he and I in bed together."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I doubt that, Hermione," he said quietly. "I saw the way you two acted with one another last night. There's spark there. He'll figure it out eventually, so you might as well just tell him."

"I'm not telling him," Hermione said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her best friend. In the heat of their argument, both she and Harry missed the faint roar of the Floo activating in the other room.

"Then you're a moron," Harry said hotly. "He might be a bloody git, but he has a right to know, Hermione!"

"He doesn't," she argued. "Draco doesn't know, and he doesn't need to know. You're not going to tell him, Harry Potter, or so help me, I'll hex you."

"Draco doesn't need to know  _what_?" the low drawl of Draco Malfoy interrupted from across the kitchen and Hermione dropped her cup in fright as she looked over in the direction of his voice.

Leaning in the doorway, covered in blood and looking like he'd been on the receiving end of an Erumpent mating session, was the very man they'd been discussing. He was dripping blood on her kitchen floor and looked like he'd been beaten within an inch of his life.

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, his face paling.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy," Hermione said exasperatedly. "What have you done to yourself this time?"

He winced when she got to her feet, flicking her wand to cast diagnostic charms on him. Hermione frowned at the readings.

"Malfoy, you're bleeding to death!" she hissed, pulling on the front of his torn hunting gear and dragging him across the kitchen. She forced him into the chair she'd abandoned before twirling her wand, summoning Blood Replenishment potions and forcing them on him. She worked quickly, using magic to heal the many gouges and cuts littering his body, peeling him out of the tattered remains of his hunting tunic and frowning when she saw the state of his chest, arms, and back.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Harry asked, frowning as he watched her begin healing the injured wizard.

"Granger sent me hunting for Chelursas today," Malfoy grunted. "Don't worry about it. What do I not need to know, Granger?"

He tipped his head up to look at her and Hermione frowned.

"Nothing," she said. "It's not important right now. You're literally bleeding to death, Malfoy."

"I'll live," he muttered, though he looked like he didn't much care if he did or he didn't.

"One Chelursa did all that?" Harry asked, frowning when Hermione noticed the bloody pooling on the floor from a nasty bite on his thigh.

"Up, Malfoy," she commanded, pulling him up. "Pants off, too. You're bleeding everywhere, and the magic isn't healing this bite."

"Always trying to force me out of my clothes, Granger," he muttered, though the words lacked his usual teasing tone.

"Harry, get me an Invigoration Draught from that box, could you?" she said, nodding at it, leaning Malfoy against the table when he wobbled like he might collapse.

She made short work of the fastenings on his trousers, yanking them down his legs until he wore only his boxers. She winced at the sight of the many bites and slash-marks littering his legs.

"How did this happen?" Harry asked, helping Malfoy drink the potion when he pressed it to the other man's lips. "How rubbish are you at hunting that you get hurt so often?"

Malfoy flipped him off, jabbing his wand viciously and summoning a bottle of whiskey from Hermione's top cupboard. He didn't bother to use a glass, twisting the top off and tipping the bottle to his lips.

"Damn it, Malfoy, this wasn't just a Chelursa attack," she said. "This isn't a Chelursa bite."

"Might've been from the horde of hungry Swandles that happened on me after I killed the Chelursa," Malfoy muttered, one of his hands threading into her curls as she squatted in front of him, trying to figure out what had bitten him.

"Swandles don't bite," she argued, ignoring the way his fingers scraped delightfully against her scalp.

"So, maybe I also happened across a Welsh Green in that forest," he shrugged his shoulders. "Got another burn on my arse to prove it."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione muttered, shaking her head. "I swear you're a magnet for dangerous creatures. What did you do? Scream at the top of your lungs that nothing could defeat you? Welsh Greens are docile unless they're egg-sitting."

"Fucker was hungry," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "And I was bleeding."

"Hermione, he wasn't kidding about the burn on his arse," Harry said. "Those boxers are burned off at the back."

"Draco Malfoy, I'm never letting you hunt again!" Narcissa Malfoy's voice suddenly intruded on the chaos and Hermione caught the way Malfoy quickly jerked his hand free of her hair, as though afraid to be caught.

"Mother?" he frowned. "What are you doing here? What? Every time I go missing you just  _assume_  I'm with Granger?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm here to check on your son," his mother sniffed imperiously. "Hermione, is he going to live?"

"Not if he doesn't hold still and stop twitching while I heal this bite," Hermione threatened.

"Step aside, Mr Potter," Narcissa commanded. "Let's fix that burn."

"Oi, that's my arse, Mother."

"Yes, dear," Narcissa rolled her eyes at Hermione. "I'm aware of your anatomy. There was a time I had to wipe it for you after every meal."

"Mother!" Draco hissed, looking horrified.

"Oh, hush up, you silly boy," his mother scolded him and Hermione almost giggled. "I honestly don't know where you learned to be such a prude about your anatomy, darling. I think I can handle seeing you bum, especially as it's currently half-melted."

Hermione listened as Draco muttered unkind things, his hand weaving back into her hair and tightening into a fist in his pain when his mother healed his bum as best she could while Hermione dug a broken off dragon fang from his thigh. He glared at her when she winced up at him, more blood squirting from the wound when she pulled it free.

"Bloody hell," Harry said, chuckling a little. "This is just… a mess."

"Why are you here anyway, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Isn't your wife on her deathbed?"

Hermione recognised that he was getting mean, as he always did when given Blood Replenishment potions.

"She is. So is yours," Harry replied. "Unlike you, I've been by my wife's bedside all day. You, on the other hand, thought it'd be more useful to go out and try to get yourself eaten by hungry creatures."

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco snapped.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, never having a very long fuse at the best of times, least of all with Malfoy.

"Harry, why don't I owl you tomorrow?" Hermione suggested. "Or stop by with Teddy? Unless you want me to keep him here until the healers figure out what's wrong with Ginny? It might be something at your house, for all we know."

Harry slanted her a look that said he wasn't nearly done arguing with her, but he looked admonished about not picking a fight with Malfoy while he was half-dead.

"Right. Yeah… I… I should go home. I need a shower," Harry said.

"There's a plate for you on the counter," Hermione told him. "Dinner. Take it with you. I'd invite you to eat here, but Malfoy gets very snarly when he's had some of these medicinal potions."

Harry nodded.

"Okay. Thanks. Um. I'll swing by in the morning, unless you're happy to keep Teddy here until after I go to the hospital to check on Ginny?"

"Of course, I am," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You need to focus on Ginny right now. I'll mind Teddy until everything is sorted with her. Keep me posted on her condition, yeah?"

"I will. Thanks Hermione," he smiled. "And… don't forget what I said, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hermione rolled her eyes. "See you tomorrow."

Harry nodded.

"Narcissa," he nodded in farewell to the witch currently picking at the blood crusted along Draco's jaw.

"Potter," she replied.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded at Draco.

Draco curled his lip and flipped Harry off before skolling some more whiskey. Despite the rudeness, Harry laughed as he collected his plate of food and headed for the Floo.

"Draco, darling, what did you get yourself into?" Narcissa sighed. "Honestly, I won't let you leave the house if you keep getting injured like this."

"I'm fine, Mother," Malfoy muttered. "What the verdict? Am I expecting another kid?"

Hermione and Narcissa shared a loaded glance before Narcissa sighed heavily.

"No," she admitted. "The baby Astoria's carrying isn't yours, Draco."

Hermione wasn't the only one who jumped when Draco flung the whiskey bottle across the room.

"FUCK!" he shouted, gritting his teeth and pushing his mother's hand away when she tried to reach for him.

The bottle shattered when it hit the wall and Hermione recoiled when Malfoy yanked his hand free of her hair and pressed both hands over his face, breathing hard. Magic danced over his fingers and crackled through his hair. Hermione looked over at Narcissa, rising quickly and stepping away when Narcissa drew back, anticipating more violence.

She was right to do so, since Draco lunged at the table, flinging Hermione's medical box onto the floor, and kicking over one of the dining chairs in his rage.

"Draco!" Narcissa snapped, reprimanding him.

He ignored her, more magic dancing over his skin in his fury.

"It is hardly ideal, I know," Narcissa snapped. "But we'll handle it, love."

'Handle it?" Draco scoffed. "What are you going to do, Mother? Kill her?"

He levelled a hateful glare at his mother and Hermione pitied Narcissa, knowing that look all too well.

"Your father suggested it," Narcissa said evenly. " _If_  she survives the virus she's contracted, we will deal with it."

"She's my  _wife_ , Mother!" Draco snapped. "She's Scorpius's mother. You want to leave my son motherless? Because of an affair I likely drove the little trollop to commit in the first place?"

"Draco, you can't be blamed for her wandering eye," Narcissa said.

Malfoy laughed hollowly.

"Then who can? I'm the one who ignores her and neglects her. I'm the one who can barely stand the sight of her. Why wouldn't she fuck Pucey or whichever other bloody sod might shoot her a grin and give her the attention she's always craved? Merlin knows I wouldn't put up with someone like me for a spouse. I'm a fucking arsehole. I've been married to her for almost five years and I don't even know her birthday. I don't know her middle name. I don't even know what she does all day long. I couldn't tell you the first thing about the woman other than that she's my wife and my son's mother."

"Draco, darling," Narcissa said, her brow furrowed.

"Don't you dare kill her, Mother," Draco warned. "And Father better not kill her, either. I'll divorce her, and she can go and be fucking happy with some other miserable sod who sees her as an exciting distraction from his problems, rather than the root of ninety percent of them."

"Do you know how messy a divorce is in the wizarding world, Draco?" Narcissa demanded. "You would be dragged through the mud. Everything you've ever done would be called into question. They will rehash everything from the girls you screwed before you were married, to the Dark Mark you wore on your flesh. All of it will be exposed. They'll dig into our financials. Your Father won't let  _that_  happen. Not with how dodgy some of his investments and his payoffs are."

Hermione pursed her lips, well aware of some of Lucius Malfoy's less that legal dealings. Narcissa had shared it all with her before.

"Well, why don't you tell Granger all about it?" Draco snarled.

"Granger already knows," Narcissa retorted.

"And why the fuck is that?" he demanded. "You've  _never_  mentioned to me or to Father that you have tea with her. What? You share all our secrets with her, do you? Been telling her all about what goes on behind the oaken doors of the Manor, and all about the lies we keep behind pearly white teeth? When the fuck did  _you_  start associating with a muggleborn witch as though she were your confidante? Fuck… you're not shagging each other, are you? I might hurl if you're fucking my mother, Granger?"

"Draco!" Narcissa hissed, looking affronted.

"What?" Draco said. "The only reason to hide your friendship with her from us is because you've got a secret you don't want Father to learn."

"And maybe I  _do_  need to keep some things from your Father," Narcissa snapped. "That's not your concern."

"If she knows about Father's dodgy investments, I'd say it's a fucking concern, Mother," Draco snarled.

"We're talking about your imminent divorce, not my friendships," Narcissa hissed. "You cannot be dragged through the limelight like that, Draco. There are more secrets in your closet than even you know about."

Hermione pressed her lips together, darting a warning look at Narcissa.

"What the fuck is  _that_  supposed to mean?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, right now. The point is, Astoria's baby is not of your making, and we need to figure out what to do about it."

"She had an affair. She can't get custody."

"She can," Hermione interrupted. "Unless you quit your job and take on full-time parenthood with Scorpius, a judge will pick her, affair or not."

"Then I'll quit my fucking job!" Malfoy snarled. "You stay out of this, Granger. Your meddling is what brought all this shit about in the first place!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione hissed, drawing back, her own anger flaring. "How dare you, Malfoy?  _You_  are the one who refused to touch or laugh or play with his wife.  _You_  are the one who drove his wife into the arms of another man. Don't your dare stand there and blame me before catching her in the act and bringing it all to your attention. It's your own bloody fault for not paying more attention to catch her yourself, and it's her fault for not having the willpower to keep her vows. This all has nothing to do with me, and I won't be blamed just because you're in pain."

"You're right, it  _does_  have nothing to do with you, Granger. So shut your fucking mouth and stay the fuck out of it!" he snarled at her.

"Draco!" Narcissa hissed at him, obviously angry with him.

"Fuck off, Mother," Draco snarled at the woman.

"Malfoy!" Hermione snapped. "Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!"

He sneered at the pair of his injuries, standing there bare chested, wrathful, and still bleeding in a few places.

"I'm getting a fucking divorce. No one is killing anyone and no one is dragging my name or my business through the tabloids. Astoria will be blackmailed into fucking the hell off, and Scorpius will remain with me. That's how it's going to go, and that's final."

"The world doesn't just leap at your command, my boy," Narcissa informed her son coldly. "If we don't handle this with care, we will be caught in the middle of the biggest scandal in the wizarding world since the end of the war."

"Then let there be a fucking scandal."

"There's too much at stake!" Narcissa said.

"The only thing at stake is Scorpius," Draco snarled. "And  _no one_  will take my son from me. Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Hermione whispered.

Malfoy made to charge in that direction, clearly intent on collecting the boy. Narcissa shot her a panicked look.

"He's sleeping, Draco. Leave him be. We need to be getting home and he doesn't need to be kept awake by our shouting when your father hears about all of this."

"I want my son," Malfoy insisted, limping and swaying as he headed out of the kitchen, seeming to remember the way to the stairs and the bedrooms atop them.

Hermione shot Narcissa a worried look and the woman sighed tiredly.

"Stop him," Narcissa commanded her quietly. "He's drunk and half-mad from the pain and the blood loss. He's not in his right mind. Scorpius hardly needs to see that."

Hermione reached for her wand, intent on hexing the angry sod.

"No," Narcissa shook her head. "He'll just fight back and get really cruel if you hex him. Stop him, Hermione. Distract him."

"I… are you asking what I think you're asking?" Hermione asked her carefully, her brow furrowing.

"Yes," Narcissa admitted. "I never should've let him marry that girl. And the clause about fidelity won't be broken with you. Just… distract him for a little while until he calms down enough and the potions heal him enough that he sees reason."

"You're asking me to seduce your son?" Hermione confirmed.

"I'm asking you to protect my grandchildren from seeing him so wrathful," Narcissa replied evenly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I need to get home, anyway," Narcissa said. "Lucius needs to be made aware of the test results and… a few other things."

"You're going to tell him about me?" Hermione asked. "About Aurelian?"

"I will have to, unless we dispose of Astoria," Narcissa said. "Steps must be taken to mitigate the damage Aurelian's existence will do if Draco insists of taking this to trial."

Hermione frowned, thinking about arguing but thinking better of it when she saw Draco reach the bottom of the stairs and begin to climb them.

"Fine," she muttered. "But if Lucius tries to have me killed, too, I want it on your conscience."

Narcissa chuckled. "I'm sure I can deter him from that, my dear."

She patted Hermione's cheek again and nodded her after Draco before taking her leave through the other room and the Floo. Hermione shook her head, listening to Malfoy cursing to himself when he lost his balance on the bottom step and fell backward. Hurrying across the room, she reached him just as he pulled himself back to his feet.

Hermione stepped into his path before he could try the stairs again, planting her feet and glaring up at him hatefully. He frowned at her, looking confused and annoyed, before he narrowed his eyes on her. She jumped when he lifted both hands, sinking them into her mess of curls and glaring into her face. He emitted a bitter laugh as he did so.

"Move, witch," he commanded, though he made no attempt to shift her out of his path.

"Let the children sleep, Draco," Hermione said sternly. "You're hurt, and you're covered in blood. You're angry. Don't let them see you like this. They'll have nightmares. Why don't you just let me clean you up, and we'll see them after, alright?"

He shook his head at her slowly.

"So reasonable when you want me to play nice, Granger," he muttered, his grip on her hair tight, but not quite painful.

"Please?" Hermione asked softly, lifting her hands to press them against his bare chest hoping to distract him and prevent him from climbing the stairs to where the children slept.

His lips twisted into a bitter and angry sort of smirk and Hermione didn't like the way he looked at her.

"What are you going to give me to make me cooperate, Granger?" he asked, his nails scraping against her scalp and making her want to surrender to the tender touch that seemed so at odds with his foul mood.

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.

"What do you want?" she asked carefully.

He smirked. "I want to see my son," he replied.

"You can, after you bathe some of this blood off," she told him. "He's just a little boy, Draco, and you look a fright. He'll have nightmares if he sees you like this, and he might've already heard you shouting and throwing things. You don't want to traumatise him, do you?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes in return, looking like he didn't like the fact that she knew just where to push to make him cooperate.

"You're trouble, Hermione Granger," he muttered, surprising her when he leaned down and rested his forehead against hers for a long, tense minute.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking about what Narcissa had said. Despite knowing that seducing him would be the most effective means to keep him from going after the boys again, and despite knowing it wouldn't violate his marriage contract, she didn't think she could do it. She might've gotten butterflies when he'd kissed her forehead last night, but she didn't fancy him.

She didn't.

Father of her son, or not, she wasn't in love with him, didn't fancy him, and didn't want to throw herself at him, no matter the benefits.

"Let's get you showered, yeah?" Hermione suggested. "I can't even see all your wounds for the dried blood and dirt."

He sighed, closing his eyes and letting some of the tension drain out of his body. When he lifted his head from hers and instead pressed his lips to the middle of her forehead, Hermione pressed her lips together, trying desperately to ignore the riot of butterflies suddenly fluttering in her tummy.

"She cheated on me, Granger," he muttered against her skin.

Hermione nodded.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Malfoy."

He sighed again, his breath stirring her curls as he slowly dragged his hands through her hair before trailing them down her back. Realising he probably needed a hug, Hermione sighed too, stepping closer to him and curling her arms around his middle. She tucked her head beneath his chin, smoothing comforting circles over his back with her hands, trying to make him feel better. She did her level best to ignore the fact that it felt entirely too nice to be in his arms, attempting to block out the memories of the last time she'd been held so intimately in his embrace when he'd been shirtless like this.

"Can't blame her," he muttered into her hair, surprising her when he curled his arms around her in return, holding her snugly and pressing her against the full length of his body like he desperately needed the comfort she offered.

Hermione didn't know what to say, knowing she should say something comforting, but knowing that the relationship she'd had with Malfoy up until now through work and school had been based on not holding back.

"Knowing how infrequently you show her affection, no, I suppose it's not easy to blame her," she admitted.

He snorted.

"You're rubbish at making a bloke feel better, Granger."

"You don't need me to tell you that you're an aloof git, Malfoy," Hermione replied, not letting go of him, her eyes closed as she pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart hammering out a steady beat inside it. "You're a cold, distant sort of bloke. Your Mother is cold and distant too, most of the time. Astoria shouldn't have cheated, it's true, but it would hardly have been easy to broach the subject with you that she felt unloved and unwanted, and especially hard to bring up the notion of an open marriage or a divorce. Your family isn't known for taking such ideas lightly. Maybe Astoria just needed to feel like someone still wanted her, you know? Maybe she didn't know how to talk to you about it?"

"No," he muttered. "She wouldn't know. She's not like you."

Hermione tensed in his arms, wishing desperately that she could see his face.

"She just…. She doesn't shove what she wants in my face," he murmured. "She doesn't raise her voice or tell me if I've fucked up or tell me what the hell she bloody wants from me. She just smiles politely and says something niggly until I lose my temper and get short with her."

"Doesn't she get short in return?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"She screeches, if I really push her to it," he replied. "But no… she's not like you. She doesn't let her temper fly very often. She just says something cutting and stalks off until we're both in a better mood, leaving everything unresolved and slowly building up until nothing is taken care of and everything is behind this wall, swept under the rug and waiting to burst free in a terrible mess."

"Not everyone cares so little for your feelings that they're as direct with you as I am, Malfoy. Maybe she's afraid to hurt your feelings," Hermione teased, pulling back a little and peering up at him so that he'd see the teasing expression on her face.

One corner of his mouth twitched like he might smirk, and Hermione didn't know what to make of the ways his grey eyes traced over her face like he was seeing it for the very first time.

"No," he replied. "They're not. No one else talks to me like you, witch."

"Lucky you, huh?" Hermione teased, smiling self-deprecatingly.

"Mmmm," he hummed noncommittally, and Hermione blinked when she realised his eyes had traced over her face to rest upon her lips. "Lucky."

Licking her lips nervously, Hermione darted a glance at his lips, watching him copy her. Her stomach flipped. He was going to kiss her. Merlin, she didn't think a man had kissed her in more than a year. Gods, what if she'd forgotten how? Nervously, Hermione made to step back just a little, but Malfoy's arms around her body held her firm, holding her hostage against him. Her heart began to pound inside chest, and Hermione gulped audibly. Malfoy's lips twitched into a wicked little smirk then, and he carefully leaned down, slowly closing the distance between the two of them.

Against her better judgement, Hermione found herself leaning in, her breathing growing shallow while her stomach performed a gymnastics routine that made her feel like she'd missed several steps on the way down the stairs. His eyes darted between both of hers before fixing back on her lips and Hermione  _knew_  he wanted to kiss her.

Merlin, it was  _such_  a bad idea because they'd have to work together again tomorrow, and he was still married, and he was drunk and in pain and half-mad from blood-loss, probably, but Hermione's lips were tingling with need as his warm breath ghosted over her skin. Gods, one kiss wouldn't be so bad, would it? It would hardly be their first, after all. Stretching closer, Hermione closed her eyes.

The brush of his lips against hers was soft, at first. Tentative. His uncertainty was evident, and Hermione kissed back very gently, just his lips moving against hers. A childish shout behind her went almost unnoticed thanks to the way her blood pounded in her ears while Malfoy's hands tightened on her back and he slid his feet across the carpet closer to her, holding her to him as he kissed her softly.

"MUMMY!" Aurelian Granger interrupted the moment, the clatter of his little feet as he raced down the stairs almost ignored before he slammed into her side and squirmed his way between her and Draco.

Malfoy grunted when the small boy shoved his hands against Draco's stomach, forcing him backward with all of his might.

"You just get your hands off my Mummy, mister!" Aurelian said loudly, shoving Malfoy back until he was forced to break their kiss.

Hermione blinked dazedly, looking down at the angry five-year old interrupting the first kiss she'd had with a man in more than a year. She frowned at the small boy as he forced Malfoy back another step, her thoughts sufficiently scrambled.

"Hey, woah," Malfoy frowned, taking his hands off her and holding them up in surrendering. "It's me, kid. What's wrong?"

Aurelian stopped shoving him and looked up at him suspiciously.

"Me, who?" he demanded, shoving Draco again before stepping back until he was pressed against Hermione's legs. Hermione realised that Aurelian didn't recognise him because he was covered in blood, one of his eye's blackened and his platinum hair darkened with sweat, soot, and blood.

"Me," Draco repeated. "Draco Malfoy. What's the matter, sport?"

Aurelian scowled at him when Malfoy crouched, frowning at the boy and darting a look up at Hermione.

"Scorpius's Dad?" Aurelian asked. "You look different. What happened to you?"

"I got in a bit of a tussle with a few magical creatures today," Malfoy explained. "Your Mum was just helping to patch me up."

Aurelian looked up at Hermione for confirmation. She nodded, ignoring the fact that she'd been doing a bit more than patching him up.

"Oh," Aurelian said, looking entirely too adorable. "I thought you were hurting her."

"I'd never hurt your Mum, Aurelian," Draco vowed quietly. "She's probably the only friend I've got."

"Really?" Aurey asked, and Hermione echoed the sentiment, though she didn't say it.

"Really," Malfoy nodded.

"Oh. Scorpius and Teddy are my friends," Aurelian said, as though that was relevant. "We could be your friends, too?"

Malfoy shot an amused look at Hermione and she returned it despite the blush staining her cheeks.

"I'd like that," Malfoy said. "What are you doing out of bed, anyway? You Mum told me that you and Scorp and Teddy were sleeping."

"I heard shouting," Aurelian said quietly, looking up at Hermione.

Hermione sighed.

"I'm sorry we woke you, darling," Hermione said. "Why don't you run on back to bed? I'll show Mr Malfoy to the bathroom, so he can clean up, and then I'll be up to tuck you in, alright? Are Teddy and Scorpius awake, too?"

"Scorp is," Aurelian nodded. "He got scared and ran into my room with me."

Hermione's heart clenched and she caught the guilty expression on Malfoy's face, too.

"Well, I hope you were nice to him, darling?" Hermione said.

Aurelian nodded.

"Go on back to bed, love. I'll come and read you both a story in a minute, alright? Take your mind off things. Why don't you pick your favourite book and get it ready for me when I come up?" Hermione suggested. "Maybe  _Babbity-Rabbity_?"

"Could we read  _Huckleberry Finn_?" Aurelian asked, referring to the muggle story she'd begun reading to him recently. "Or maybe  _Brer Wolf_?"

"Of course, we can, darling. You pick which one you'd like, and I'll read it," Hermione said.

"Okay!" Aurelian grinned. "Sorry for shoving you Dadco… I mean, Draco."

He blushed at the slip of the tongue and Hermione's eyes widened in fright while Malfoy's expression paled a little at having the small boy who looked so very much like him calling him Dad.

"That's alright," Draco said. "I'd probably shove someone if a strange git was getting too close to my mother, too."

Aurelian beamed at being forgiven before he dashed off up the stairs once more, leaving Hermione alone with a suddenly suspicious looking Draco Malfoy.


	14. Chapter 13

Draco narrowed his eyes on the suddenly blushing witch he'd just kissed, unable to keep from thinking that he'd kissed her before. There had been something familiar about the feel of her curled into his embrace when she'd hugged him, and his hands recalled fisting her wild curls like that more than once.

The small boy's interruption was annoying, because Draco had been entertaining notions of turning the morning's fantasy into a reality. Right up until the word 'Dadco' fell out of his mouth.

It seemed innocent enough a mistake, except for the fact that Aurelian didn't have a father in his life. He didn't have anyone he frequently referred to as 'Dad', and as such, shouldn't be associating any man in his mother's life with the male authoritive figure frequently referred to as 'Dad'.

"Did your son just call me 'Dad'?" he asked of the witch before him quietly, wondering how she might try to explain this away.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to," Granger said evenly. "He's probably just been listening to Scorpius and Teddy refer to people as 'Dad' all day and made a mistake."

She refused to meet his gaze and Draco narrowed his eye son her suspiciously, doubt gnawing at his gut and an overwhelming sense of being lied to filling him up.

"Who did you say Aurelian's real father is, again?" he asked, none-too-innocently uncaring if he sounded impolite.

"I don't think I did say, Malfoy," she said, scowling at him for his audacity and Draco's inner liar sensed that she was scrambling to hide something from him. "Come on. The bathroom is down here. You need to wash before you give anyone else nightmares and I need to get the boys back to sleep."

She pulled on his arm, leading him down the hall without making eye contact, and Draco narrowed his eyes on the back of her head.

"Who is Aurelian's father, Granger?" Draco asked sternly, letting her lead him into the bathroom only because he was covered in blood and still hurting in several places that needed attention as soon as he could unearth them.

"That's hardly your business, Malfoy," she replied, avoiding his eyes.

"Is it my business?" Draco asked. "What is it that you don't think I need to know? That Potter was so insistent on having you tell me?"

"That's not your business, either."

Draco narrowed his eyes to slits, reaching for the witch before she could march out of the bathroom now that she'd shown him where it was. He caught her elbow, blocking her escape and forcing her to look up and meet his gaze.

"Malfoy, stop it," she said sternly, glowering at him for daring to touch her when he was covered in blood and she was clearly trying to hide something from him. "You've had too much whiskey and you've lost a lot of blood. You're being paranoid."

"Is he mine?" Draco asked in a low voice, the strangest flipping sensation that seemed to hover somewhere between hope and dread filling up his stomach and making him want to shift in place.

"Why would you think that?" she asked in reply, refusing to answer and Draco's suspicions grew.

Sweet fucking Merlin, if the witch had somehow conceived his son and kept it a secret for five years, he didn't think he would be able to control his already simmering temper. He didn't know how it could be, when he had no memory of ever shagging her, but he'd be a fucking fool not to have noticed how similar Aurelian and Scorpius were in appearance.

"Because that kiss felt too familiar for it to be the first one you and I have ever shared," he told her quietly, wondering what it might take to implore the truth from her.

He couldn't deny it. He didn't  _recall_  ever kissing her before this evening, but there had been something about the feel of her lips on his that nipped at his subconscious and made him wonder if just  _maybe_  he'd snogged her before.

"You're making mountains out of molehills, Draco," she informed him contrarily, trying to pull out of his grip so that she could flee. "Aurey slipped up and mistakenly called you 'Dadco' instead of Draco – not entirely a difficult mistake to make considering the he's only five, and he's tired, and he's been listening to Scorpius babbling about you all day."

"What are you keeping from me, witch?" Draco hissed, his eyes flashing with his mounting fury. "Don't think I haven't noticed that your son looks almost exactly like Scorpius, except he's got your curls. He's got my eyes, Granger!"

"You're seeing things," Granger denied stubbornly, and Draco wondered if he'd be prosecuted for murder should he accidentally snap her neck whilst shaking her in pure frustration.

Draco lifted both hands, cupping her face insistently and forcing her to meet his gaze, lest he strangle her instead.

"Why do you have tea every week with my mother, Hermione?" he asked her in a low almost-reasonable voice, using her first name in the hope of better rattling the truth out of the tight vault she kept it locked within.

"We're friends."

"You're a muggleborn and she's a prejudice blood supremacist. There's no way you'd have developed a friendship without reason," Draco reasoned. "Particularly not a friendship my mother felt compelled to hide from my father and I. I suppose this friendship you share has been building for five years. Am I right?"

Draco could see from the pained expression on her face that it was true.

"So, my mother mysteriously becomes your friend five years ago after you give birth to a little boy with Malfoy blond hair and the grey eyes known to belong to the Black family bloodline," Draco surmised. "And Potter thinks you're a moron for refusing to tell me something. He met my son today, didn't he? Laid eyes on Scorpius and spotted the similarities between Scorpius and Aurelian, did he? He's an Auror, he's trained to notice things like that, after all, so I'll bet  _he_  spotted it right away. Come to think of it, I seem to recall Mother receiving a tacky bundle of blue balloons five years ago right around the time Aurelian would've been born. She had them destroyed, and claimed that we'd received them by mistake, at the time. And I doubt you'd have sent them to her, since if you and I ever shagged you obviously don't want me to remember it. I'd hardly put it past my mother to have had someone in the births record office keeping an eye out for my name, lest I spawn some illegitimate heir that might come along and upset the applecart years down the line."

"Malfoy, you're rambling," Granger said, and Draco raised one eyebrow, noting the way her eyes darted from side to side, looking for some way to distract him.

"Is Aurelian Granger my illegitimate son, Hermione?" Draco asked.

"Malfoy, please," she said, trying to pull away from him.

"Answer me, witch," Draco bit out, trying to control his temper. "Just tell me the truth. Have you and I ever shagged? Did we shag almost six years ago? Is Aurelian the result?"

"Draco…" she said desperately, and Draco didn't really need to hear her say it to know it was true. "This isn't the time. You're on the brink of divorce. You're upset. You're not thinking clearly. You've had a very bad day. Don't make it worse by starting a fight with me, alright? Please? Just get in the shower and wash off all that mess so I can heal you. Please?"

Draco traced his eyes over her face, noting how scared she looked, and it occurred to him that when the time came for his trial to divorce Astoria, it might be a very bad thing to have confirmed knowledge that he had a second son no one knew about.

Fuck.

Releasing the witch, Draco took a step back, raking his eyes over her in horror and wondering whether or not it was true.

"I don't need you to heal me," he said coldly, turning away from the witch and leaning into the shower to run the taps.

"Malfoy…" she began but Draco spun on her angrily, crossing the bathroom toward her quickly and seizing hold of her chin, leaning over her furiously.

He stooped slightly, capturing her lips with his own and kissing her aggressively. Part of him knew it was wrong. He was still married, and he was so angry his blood was boiling, and he knew he could hurt this woman. He  _wanted_  to hurt her. She kissed him back helplessly, tangling her tongue with his in a way that felt increasingly familiar and Draco realised that his daydream from that morning in the woods hadn't been a daydream at all.

It was a re-surfaced memory.

Tearing his lips from hers, Draco stepped back and clenched his fists, gritting his teeth to keep from unleashing his vile temper on the witch, no matter how much she might deserve it.

"If, after my divorce is finalised, it comes to light that that boy is my son, you will have some serious explaining to do, Granger."

"He…" Granger began but Draco held up a hand, cutting her off before she could tell him once and for all.

"No." he said quietly, glaring at her coldly. "I won't have it confirmed now. Not when I will, undoubtedly, be questioned during my divorce trial about whether I was ever unfaithful and whether I have any other confirmed heirs besides Scorpius. I would like to be able to answer truthfully that I have only one  _confirmed_  heir."

Granger's face was pale, and her lower lip was trembling, but she hadn't said it and Draco knew how to wiggle around the law when it came to technicalities like that.

"After my divorce is finalized, you will confirm whether or not Aurelian is my son, and you had better have a fucking good reason for keeping his existence from me for five years, or so help me, I'll reconsider my father's offer to kill the mother of my son. Got it?" Draco snarled at her.

Were she Astoria, she'd have cried and nodded, and fled the room. But Draco knew that she was nothing like his wife when, despite her pale face and her trembling lower lip, Hermione Granger put her hands on her hips and glared him down like he was an unruly magical creature misbehaving during her testing process.

" _If_  Aurelian was your son and  _if_  I had kept it from you for five fucking years, that would be my bloody business, Draco Malfoy!" she snarled coldly. "If I had chosen to keep his existence from you because I didn't want to be forced into a marriage with you when society and old-fashioned bollocks demanded that you and I marry as a result of an unplanned pregnancy, that would be  _my_  business! If I had chosen to hide it from you to keep myself from being used as a political tool of your father's to better the reputation of your family following the fall of the Malfoy name after the war, that would be my business, and you will  _not_  snarl at me for any decision I made concerning the safety and wellbeing of myself and my son!"

Draco scoffed, magic crackling through his hair as his anger spiked, fizzing inside his skull and threatening to pour out of his mouth with devastating effect.

"If your cowardice is to blame for the fact that I married that faithless whore even though I find myself fantasizing about you more and more, you better believe I'm going to do more than snarl, Granger," Draco threatened icily, uncaring right in that moment that he'd just admitted to fantasizing about her.

"You don't get to put your failing marriage on me, Malfoy. You're the one who doesn't love his wife. You're the one who doesn't touch her except to fuck her every now and then. You're the one who'd rather go hunting in the woods than accompany his wife to the bloody hospital. If I had opted to keep a child's existence from you to avoid ending up just like Astoria, it wouldn't be cowardice. It'd be the smartest thing I've ever done."

Draco's temper flared at the harsh truths she laid on him – unafraid to hurt his feelings or point out his flaws in defence of herself and her choice - and he knew that if she didn't get out of his sight, he was going to hurt her.

"Get out!" he hissed, his eyes boring into hers. "Get the fuck out of my sight, Granger. Before I do something we'll both regret."

Granger opened her mouth like she might argue and tell him that this was her house and her bathroom and that the choices she made regarding her life and her son were not his concern, no matter how they might've affected his life and landed him in this mess with Astoria. She looked like she was going to tell him to go fuck himself, in fact, but she closed her mouth again when she traced her eyes over his face, realising he was seconds from violence. Spinning on her heels, she stomped out of the bathroom, pulling the door closed quietly behind her. Draco flicked his wand to cast a silencing charm so he wouldn't scare the children before he lost his temper with a furious roar, putting his fist right through the vanity mirror and spilling even more of his blood for the day.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Well?" Lucius Malfoy drawled at his wife when she stepped through the Floo close to nine o'clock that evening.

He held a glass of Firewhiskey and sat in the living room, one leg crossed over the other as he watched his witch flick her wand to remove the soot and remnants of travelling by Floo from her clothes and her hair. Narcissa looked a little stressed, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she crossed the room before leaning down to peck him on the lips in greeting. Lucius narrowed his eyes when she resisted his attempts to pull her into his lap, instead crossing the floor to sit in the armchair opposite his.

That didn't bode well.

"Lucius, dear," Narcissa began and Lucius's stomach flipped. She never called him 'dear' unless something was terribly wrong or unless she'd done something that would infuriate him beyond measure.

"The child is not Draco's?" He confirmed, raising his eyebrows at his wife.

Narcissa sighed.

"No," she said.

"What have you done about it?" He asked seriously.

"Nothing yet," she said. "Draco knows. He has forbidden us from disposing of the girl. He wants to go to trial and divorce her. He's blaming himself."

Lucius almost rolled his eyes at the very idea. Foolish boy.

"That can't happen," Lucius said. "You know what will happen if the Ministry is allowed to delve into our affairs and to investigate the accounts."

"He'll know what we've done if we kill her, darling," Narcissa argued. "And we will be the obvious culprits if we have her killed. The Ministry would look into us, regardless."

Lucius considered that for a moment, knowing it was true, but knowing well which palms he might grease to ensure no one looked  _too_  closely.

"She's afflicted with some pregnancy induced sickness, yes?" Lucius asked, and his wife eyed him suspiciously, clearly wondering how he knew even that much.

He waved his hand at the  _Evening Prophet_  on the coffee table, where the story was splashed across the front page featuring a picture of Potter sitting slumped by his wife's bedside.

Narcissa sighed again, looking weary.

"She won't leave the hospital. And no one will think we're to blame. They will simply write it off as a tragic accident – an unfortunate end to her sudden illness. If need be, to make the story more plausible, one of the other witches can be similarly disposed of. I care little. We won't be caught," Lucius promised.

Narcissa but her lip.

"Draco may not forgive us for that. For any of it. He is arguing that Astoria is Scorpius's mother and that he won't rob his son of a loving mother just because  _he_  drove her into the arms of another man."

"He'll never know it wasn't a result of natural causes. I can make sure of that much," Lucius shrugged, never having liked his daughter-in-law, and well aware that his son was more soft-hearted than was strictly acceptable when it came to the protection of the Malfoy name, and to ensuring they all kept themselves out of prison. The last thing he needed was the Ministry looking into just where a good deal of his money was invested and whose palms were greased to ensure certain cases were thrown, certain Quidditch matches were won, and certain research projects were accepted, no matter the way they bent the laws governing wizarding society.

It would be a very poor time indeed to have the scandal of his daughter-in-law's affair splashed across the gossip columns, and his son's manhood called into question that the thick-headed witch had sought her pleasure elsewhere.

Narcissa sighed again, as she was prone to doing when she had unpleasant things of her mind, and she waved her wand to pour herself a whiskey before lifting it to her lips when it was within her reach. Lucius watched the beautiful woman drink down the entire contents with worry gnawing at his gut. Narcissa had never really been one for whiskey. Not when fine elvish wine was available, and especially not the brand he'd been drinking this evening. Lucius didn't recall seeing her drink this particular brand of whiskey since the Dark Lord had invaded their home, tormented their son, disrespected everything they stood for, and threatened their lives.

Something was bothering her. Something big. He wondered if the woman would tell him on her own, or if he might be forced to pry it out of her slowly. Knowing his wife's penchant for guarding secrets so very well, he expected it would be harder than extracting troll teeth were he to attempt to lure the information out of her should she wish to keep it to herself.

"There's something else?" He asked before frowning a little when it occurred to him that she was alone. "Where's Scorpius?"

"With Draco," Narcissa said shortly, her brow furrowing a little and her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as though she were embarrassed to admit to that fact. "Erm... Draco was badly wounded today, love."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, knowing that wasn't what the woman had come home intending to tell him. Something else was bothering her. Something more pressing even than the injuries their son had sustained during the day. Lucius shook his head, knowing the boy had a bad habit, of late, of getting into mischief when he went out gallivanting after magical creatures that the mudblood he worked with  _insisted_  she needed specimens of. Draco had come home worse for wear more than once in recent weeks, and he was willing to bet it was a symptom of just one of the many underlying issues that had driven Astoria into the arms of another.

"Oh?" He asked.

Narcissa nodded.

"Chelursa attack," she huffed, looking rather like the very idea offended her. "And a Swandle attack while he was bleeding. And a dragon tried to roast his bum. I had to put him to rights while he guzzled enough whiskey to almost drown himself. He's in quite a state after hearing the news."

Lucius nodded. He didn't believe the boy had ever loved his wife, or even particularly like her, if he was being honest, but he knew it would be a blow to Draco's pride and an added frustration he didn't particularly need or want that would likely push him into a nasty temper, the likes of which none but that uppity mudblood seemed able to coax him to, these days.

"Where is he? Perhaps he could use some advice or a stern reminder of why a divorce trial is not an option. He will lose custody of Scorpius if this is allowed to go to trial, Cissy. Issues of the Ministry looking too closely, and the wretchedness of the scandal aside, Draco will lose Scorpius if he tries to challenge Astoria for custody. "

"He means to quit his job as a Hunter if it means he'll have improved chances of keeping Scorpius," Narcissa said, pursing her lips as her brow furrowed over the notion. "I expect he will attempt to blackmail Astoria to give up custody, and to bribe her, if that doesn't work."

"I will save him the trouble," Lucius said, shrugging his shoulders before lifting his whiskey glass to his lips and taking a sip as he watched his wife over the rim. He noted the way she avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of having the girl killed, even if the little whore  _did_  deserve it. "What ward is she in at St. Mungo's?"

Narcissa bit her lip, looking a little reluctant to tell him. Lucius didn't blame her. She had suffered terribly when he'd been thrown in Azkaban during the war. She would not cope well if he was caught for assassinating their daughter in law.

"The maternity ward. Room nineteen," she admitted quietly, looking away like she could bear the thought of having any knowledge of what he planned to have done to the girl.

Lucius wondered if it was out of guilt and self-disgust or if she was simply being smart so that when they were inevitably questioned over the girl's death, she could say she knew nothing.

He watched her pour herself another whiskey, knowing there was something else. It gnawed at his psyche like a bug inside his skull desperately trying to burrow free and he loathed the waiting game he was certain the witch would make him play before eventually coming clean about what else was bothering her.

"Have you eaten, darling?" She asked after a pregnant silence that only exacerbated his concerns.

"Do I ever eat without you, Cissy?" He asked, raising one eyebrow

She smiled gently then, and he knew without a doubt that no matter what secret she was keeping, she still adored him now as much as she'd done when they'd been young and in love, before the rise and fall of the Dark Lord and before they'd had to worry about their son, or their grandson.

"No," she murmured. "Come on. Let's eat, and then maybe you can give me a bath? I want to wash that crawly feeling off my skin from the hospital."

Lucius let her lure him from the room and away to the dining hall, where the elves served them dinner, and all the while he watched Narcissa, wondering if she would ever tell him whatever secret it was that she currently kept, or if he might have to begin doing a little digging.


	15. Chapter 14

Hermione fought the urge to slide down the bathroom door, her nerves were so shot when she escaped Draco's presence. She was breathing hard and her whole body trembled, overwrought with emotion.

He knew.

Not officially, but Draco Malfoy knew that Aurelian was his son. And from the expression he'd worn and the hatred that had glittered in his eyes, Hermione doubted he would ever forgive her for keeping it from him.

Sighing heavily and trying to get herself back under control, Hermione pushed away from the door. She needed space. She needed time to think. Merlin, she needed to make sure Aurey and Scorpius were tucked back in to bed and that they would have a good night's sleep rather than nightmares after listening to Malfoy losing his temper and throwing things.

She knew he had every right to be upset. He was in pain, and he'd lost a lot of blood, and he'd just been handed proof that his wife had cheated on him. His divorce was looming, and for all they knew, Astoria might very well die from whatever condition she'd contracted – if Lucius Malfoy didn't get there first and put a quick end to her continued existence. To compound on that with the discovery that he had a second son could hardly be easy and he'd actually taken it better than she'd imagined – even if she hadn't confirmed it aloud.

Hurrying up the stairs, Hermione looked into Aurelian's room where Scorpius, Aurey and Teddy were all supposed to be, and she frowned to find the bedroom empty of the three small boys. Narrowing her eyes and hurrying down the hall, she looked into the spare rooms before coming to her bedroom at the end of the hall.

All three boys were huddled in her bed, Aurelian sitting between Teddy and Scorpius, a book held on his lap, Scorpius curled into one side and Teddy curled into the other. They were all looking at the pictures while Teddy read the book to them quietly.

"Mummy," Aurelian smiled when he spotted her, beckoning her over.

"Is everything alright in here?" Hermione asked, frowning at the three of them.

"Your bed's bigger," Aurelian told her. "And we wanted to all hear the story. Will you read it to us Mummy? Please?"

"What book have you got?" Hermione asked.

"Tales of Uncle Remus: The Adventures of Brer Rabbit," Teddy read aloud. "My Daddy's name was Remus."

Hermione smiled.

"Yes, it was," Hermione said kindly. "And he was wonderful."

Teddy smiled sadly. "Will you read it to us, Aunt Hermione?" he asked innocently. "Can we read Brer Wolf? He's my favourite."

Hermione nodded, crossing the room and crawling into bed alongside the little boys. Aurelian moved over, making space between himself and Scorpius before handing her the book and burrowing into her side. Teddy slung his arm around Aurelian's shoulders and Hermione smiled when Scorpius snuggled in on her other side, all of them pressing close to be able to see the pictures as Hermione flipped to one of the chapters about Brer Wolf, and began to read.

"Brer Fox was talking to Brer Wolf….*" Hermione read, launching into the tale and smiling as she enacted the voices, making Aurelian giggle with glee.

Aurey pointed at the pictures on the page, indicating to Scorpius which one was which, and soon all three small boys were enthralled with the tales, giggling and squirming in the bed beside her, despite the way their sleepy eyes had begun to droop.

Midway through the story three tales along as Brer Rabbit once again outsmarted the others, a soft sound by the door caught her attention and she looked over, her brow creasing with worry when she laid eyes on Draco Malfoy. He stood in the doorway, his eyes tracing over the four of them in the bed, and Hermione's stomach flipped with nerves, noticing the way his gaze was hard, his expression pinched into a small frown and his mouth pulled into a hard line. She didn't know if he was still angry, or if he was in pain, though from the look of him as he stood there shirtless in what looked alarmingly like track pants, Hermione suspected he must be in a good deal of pain.

His chest was littered with fresh scars from the Chelursa claws, and a nasty burn shone across his right hip. He had scratches on his arms, and bruises on his torso from the hard day rough-housing with magical creatures. He looked a little worse for wear, and Hermione wondered where he'd gotten the track pants, given that he'd arrived in hunting gear that had been torn to shreds and had the arse burned out of them.

She didn't pause in her reading, though she caught the way Scorpius looked over and gave his father a big smile.

"Daddy!" the toddler called, making grabby hands at Malfoy, beckoning him closer.

Hermione kept her eyes on the story book, continue to read from it in a soft tone, lulling the children toward sleep, once more. Teddy was already out, his eyes closed and his little body sprawled across the bed on Aurelian's far side. Malfoy hesitated in the doorway, clearly at a loss over what to do when confronted with such a sweet family moment. She wondered if the fact that he was father to two of the boys in the bed was tormenting his psyche, as it tormented hers.

"Daddy, come," Scorpius commanded when Draco didn't move and Hermione smiled just a little at the direct order from such a small boy.

Draco narrowed his eyes on his son slightly before hesitantly stepping across the threshold. Hermione was uncomfortably aware of the way he trailed his eyes over the room, noting the stack of books on her bedside table, and the clothes strewn over the armchair by the hearth. When he'd walked to the edge of the bed, Scorpius shifted from his spot nestled against her, crawling to the edge of the bed and tugging on Draco's arms, clearly inviting his father to sit with them as she read the story.

Hermione met Malfoy's gaze, having read this book enough times that she knew the words by heart without needing to see them. Malfoy's mouth twisted like he wanted to say something, but he kept whatever harsh words he had for her behind his teeth before waving his fingers very subtly toward the side of the bed Scorpius was attempting to pull him down onto. He raised one eyebrow in silent question, refraining from interrupting her, but clearly asking if it was alright that he join them on the bed.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as Hermione gave a brisk nod, watching the way Scorpius dug open the covers and tugged his father down to sit beneath them alongside him. Hermione watched out of the corner of her eyes as Malfoy complied with the boy's wishes, settling himself under the covers and shuffling closer when Scorpius burrowed back into her side before pulling on his arm again. Recognising that the boy was trying to steal the warmth from both of them, Malfoy shook his head just a little, sliding closer until his foot brushed Hermione's under the covers, lifting the small boy into his arms and moving over so that he could see the pictures too, nodding when Scorpius pointed at them.

Hermione worked to keep the tremor from her voice as she read on, smoothing her hand over Aurelian's curls while her stomach did nervous backflips. Malfoy didn't say a word as he got comfortable beside her, holding his youngest son and listening as she read the tale in a soft tone.

It didn't take too long, with his father holding him, for Scorpius to finally drift off, but Hermione kept reading, listening to the way Aurey's breath hitched every now and then as he fought the vestiges of sleep trying to claim him, desperate to keep his eyes open and hear just a little bit more of the story. As she read, Hermione became aware of the fact that Malfoy was watching her and Aurelian, his eyes trained on the two of them, in addition to the way Scorpius reached for her in his sleep, his little hand tangling around one of her ringlets and holding it contently as he slept.

She ignored Malfoy right up until he carefully reached over and put his hand on top of the book, forcing it face-down to rest against her chest. Hermione blinked, having become engrossed in the story herself, and she followed the length of his arm with her eyes, frowning at him in confusion. He nodded his head toward Aurelian, who'd finally stretched out and succumbed to sleep.

Aurelian stretched toward his cousin in his sleep, his hand brushing Teddy's arm, his little face cushioned on Hermione's chest, and his free hand curling around Scorpius's, similarly holding onto one of her curls. Her heart squeezed inside her chest, so full of love for her son that she was sure it might explode, and she blinked when Malfoy pried the book from her hands, lifting it and twisting carefully to set it on the bedside table.

Hermione watched him set it aside before he rolled back toward her, his son snuggled between the two of them. He met her gaze, and Hermione wondered what he was thinking, noting the lack of expression on his face.

"Are you still injured?" she asked in a whisper, unsure what else to say to the wizard when her stomach was in knots, and he was furious with her about Aurelian.

"Not with anything that won't heal on it's own," he replied evenly.

Hermione held his gaze, guilt beginning to fester in her heart.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Granger," he murmured quietly as he traced his eyes over her and Aurelian before sweeping them over Scorpius too.

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that was probably true.

"You deprived me of this," Malfoy went on quietly, driving the stake home to ensure she was wracked fully with guilt. "I could've been spending every night of the past five years like this."

Hermione wanted to argue. To tell him that if she'd come to him during her pregnancy and told him the child she carried was his, he'd likely have turned her away and told her she was barmy, and insulted her blood status.

"No," she said quietly. "You'd still have spent them exactly as you have."

He narrowed his eyes on her.

"You think I'd have turned you away?" he challenged quietly. "You, Granger?"

"You would have," Hermione nodded. "You'd have told me to take care of it and given me a stack of Galleons to handle the problem, and you'd have never spoken another word to me."

Anger flashed in his eyes, but before he could argue, Scorpius grizzled upon his chest and Draco held his tongue. Hermione knew he knew it was true. He'd have pressured her to have an abortion, or he'd have been obligated into marrying her had she refused to terminate.

"I'd have done the right thing when you declined," he said stiffly.

"And if you had, you wouldn't have him," Hermione nodded at Scorpius.

"If I had, we'd likely have had two or three more of him," Draco argued quietly in return, nodding at Aurey and Hermione's heart clenched, unable to stand the idea that he finally knew that Aurelian was his son.

How many times had the urge to tell him sat on the tip of her tongue just waiting to be blurted out? How many times over the years had she ached with the need to confess to him that they had a child together?

"We'd have been as miserable as you are with your current wife, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"He's mine, then? You're certain?"

"You didn't want confirmation," Hermione replied.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on her.

"I'll never forgive you for this, witch," he threatened quietly.

"I'll live," Hermione muttered in reply.

"Bitch," he hissed softly, so as not to wake the children.

Hermione glared at him and he glared back before Aurelian stirred a little, grizzling in his sleep and snuffling about, rolling away from them both to face toward Teddy. Malfoy's face twitched as he watched the young boy move and seemingly without conscious thought, he reached for his eldest son, gently sliding his fingers through Aurey's soft curls, his arm stretched across Hermione's waist.

She held still, permitting the touch as she watched Aurey settle under the soothing touch.

Malfoy didn't pull his hand away even when Aurelian settled, his breathing growing deep and even.

"Are you sure you don't want me to heal these, Malfoy?" Hermione asked quietly, lifting a shaky hand to trace over the nasty slash she spotted on the back of his arm and across his shoulder.

He glanced sideways at her before eyeing the wound. It was scabbed over, but would likely weep during the night if he didn't do something to treat it.

"There's nothing you can do to undo this mess, Granger," he said, clearly mistaking her offer for some intent to bribe him into forgiving her.

"I don't expect to undo it, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "I made my choice, and I've lived with it for years. No matter how badly I wanted to tell you, sometimes. I did what I believed was best for myself and my son, because the man you were five years ago was not someone who'd have taken this well or handled it in any way that would have led to a different end to our resultant and obligatory marriage than the one you share with Astoria. Had I confessed, you wouldn't have Scorpius."

"I wouldn't have a cheating wife and an impending divorce and custody battle, either," he argued, slolwy withdrawing his hand from Aurelian and sitting up. He carefully moved Scorpius off his chest, sliding the boy onto the bed between them before he rolled away, sitting up and then getting to his feet.

He looked at her expectantly, brushing a hand over his wounded shoulder before eyeing her meaningfully, intending to have her follow him out the door. Hermione hesitated, not looking forward to continuing their argument while he fought with her.

Sighing, she extracted herself from the bed and crawled to the end of it to better avoid upsetting the boys while they slept. She followed him out of the room, directing him down the stairs and back into the kitchen. He dropped carefully into one of the dining chairs, wincing like it hurt him and Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering if maybe there was some additional injury to his arse that his mother had missed when she'd hurriedly healed him earlier.

"Do you need me to take a look?' She asked seriously, eyeing him meaningfully and in spite of his anger, he smirked evilly for just a moment.

"Still trying to talk me out of my pants, Granger?" He teased.

"Suffer, if you'd prefer to keep your dignity," Hermione shrugged, turning away to begin tidying the kitchen after the mess he'd made of it during his earlier outburst.

He made a small, angry noise behind her and Hermione pretended not to hear it.

"How did this happen?" He asked finally when she'd cleaned up and turned to him with some healing salves for his remaining wounds.

"You were attacked by a Chelursa," Hermione supplied helpfully, even knowing that hadn't been what he was asking.

"Don't play dumb with me, Granger," he hissed. "It doesn't bloody suit you."

Hermione took the backhanded compliment for what it was even as she smeared some murtlap essence over his shoulder.

"It happened in the usual way, Malfoy," Hermione sighed, not making eye contact, not wanting him to see the way she blushed when she thought back on the night she'd spent in his bed.

"Why don't I remember? How did this even happen? You and I weren't friends back then."

Hermione wanted to ask if he really thought they were friends now, despite what he'd said to Aurelian earlier.

"We'd both had a lot to drink," Hermione said. "And I snuck out the next morning before you woke up to avoid awkward conversations like this one."

"You shagged me and ran away?" He sneered scornfully.

"You'd have sneered even worse about it all those years ago," she pointed out. "We barely tolerated each other back then."

"We barely tolerate each other now," he replied.

Hermione nodded. "Twist this way, there are more marks on your back," she said quietly, steering him by the shoulders. She caught the way he winced again, and supposed that when she was done with his back and his torso, she was going to have to take a look at the wounds on his bum, too.

He didn't speak again as he complied with her wishes, letting her manhandle him and manipulate his body until she was satisfied he wasn't going to rip open his skin and bleed on anything during the night.

"Alright," she sighed when she finished with his top half. "Let's see the burns on your bum."

"I'm not showing your my bloody arse, Granger," he protested.

"Don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen it before. And you're in pain. Every time you move, you wince."

"I'll live."

"Just let me see it, you stubborn sod!" Hermione snapped.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on her before rising to his feet. She blinked in shock, her eyes going wide and her cheeks warming rapidly when the contrary wizard flicked his track pants off of his hips and sent them sliding down his legs to form puddles of cotton about his ankles, leaving him bare as the day he'd been born. Sweet mother of Merlin, but she'd forgotten how he looked in all his naked glory. His eyes rested steadily on her face, daring her to look.

Gods, she wanted to look. It had been far too long since she'd seen a man stark naked, and she didn't doubt that Malfoy knew that.

"Turn," she commanded, doing her level best to keep her eyes on his face.

"But I need healing," he said in reply and for a wretched minute her stomach flipped and something inside of her throbbed with undeniable desire.

"You're funny," Hermione deadpanned, swivelling her finger in front of his face and raising her eyebrows in challenge.

He smirked for a second, the expression of wicked amusement flashing across his face before he reined it in.

"No I actually really do need healing," he said. "Look."

He gestured downward and Hermione did as she was told. Her gaze slid over his tautly muscled stomach and along the treasure trail of pale-blond hair that led south from his naval before skidding over his cock. Mercifully, he wasn't aroused right at that moment, else Hermione suspected she'd had ruined her knickers and maybe eve left a little puddle on the floor.

Of course, the sensation ceased rather abruptly when her gaze slid lower and encountered the mangled flesh of his left thigh.

"Oh, for the love of…. What did you do?" Hermione demanded, horrified at the bloody and gaping wound on his thigh. He'd obviously done something to it to keep it from bleeding on his clothes, but it still hung open like a gaping maw, revealing sinew and tissue beneath his raged skin.

"Dragon fang," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Hermione frowned. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I'm too fucking angry to feel pain right now, Granger," he said evenly. "My wife is cheating on me and pregnant to another wizard. To make matters worse, I have to stand between her and my father to keep her alive even though all I want to do is wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until she stops kicking. On top of that, the woman I'd come to think of in recent weeks as being someone I could trust when dealing with the wretchedness of all that, has been lying through her pretty fucking teeth to me for five fucking years! About secretly giving birth to my first-born son, no less! You spent every fucking day in my presence and interacting with me at work. At any point between bouts of us screeching at each other, you could have thrown out a 'by the way, you're the father of my child' and instead you kept it to yourself. You didn't say a fucking word, Granger! And so as much as I want to strangle my wife right now for being an unfaithful little tramp, I want to hex you and curse you until you scream like you screamed on the floor of the Manor that day because I don't understand how you could fucking do that!"

Hermione recoiled violently at his words, the amount of venom filling his tone enough to wound her, but the reminder of what she'd endured during the war in his presence ripping her open like she was made of paper.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She simply could stand the thought of what he'd said.

"When, Draco?" she managed after three failed attempts to speak. "When might've been a good time? When your mother invaded my room at the hospital mere hours after I'd given birth, threatening me to keep my mouth shut and then attempting to bribe me to keep the scandal out of the papers and ensure the marriage she'd been planning for you still went ahead? Or maybe I could've spoken up at your wedding? Thrown a real niffler in the vault and waited for the 'speak now or forever hold your peace' part before dumping it on you in front of a thousand people?"

"How about before I made that fucking mistake?" Draco hissed. "How about on any given day in the fucking office. I literally engage with you in some form every single day, Granger. Not a day of the past seven years since we graduated has gone by that you and I didn't trade a memo, or a word in the office, or a fight in the lab. At any point during your pregnancy you could've mentioned that I was the boy's father."

"And how would that have helped?" Hermione demanded. "Right now you're blinded by the fact that your wife has cheated on you, Draco, but until just a few weeks ago, you believed yourself to be comfortably married. You had the perfect family, with the perfect son and the perfect, beautiful wife in your bed and no matter the things we've learned since then, to all the world, you and Astoria looked happy."

"We weren't even together when you got pregnant!" Draco argued. "I'd barely said five words to Astoria when I knocked you up."

"So?" Hermione demanded.

"So, why did you run out the morning after?" he asked. "Why didn't you say anything in the weeks following your moment of cowardice when you realised you were pregnant? Why did you even keep the baby? You had to have known he was mine, so why would you keep him?"

"Just because I didn't want to deal with being forced into a marriage to play happy families with you doesn't mean I didn't want to be a mother, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "I got pregnant and my first instinct was to panic, and I won't lie, I thought very seriously about terminating. But when I went in to speak with the Healers about it, they insisted on performing a Scanning spell to confirm that I actually was pregnant, and not suffering some other sickness. Have you ever seen a scan? They show you the baby growing inside. You can see it, right there. And when I saw Aurey, I didn't care anymore that he was half you, or that the wizarding world would think ill of me for having a child out of wedlock, or that you and I had a wretched history. I wanted to keep him, and I didn't want to deal with the fallout of everything else. Imagine me trying to explain to Molly Weasley that shortly after her son and I called it quits, I was pregnant to someone who'd been a Death Eater during the war. Imagine me telling Harry. He didn't even take it well this evening, eight years after the war ended and after everything to two of you have done to reconcile your differences."

"You kept this from me because you were scared of Potter?" Malfoy sneered, looking disgusted with her.

"I kept this from you because I was twenty-one years old, Draco. You were only twenty! We were on the tail end of a nasty war, during which I was tortured in your bloody house. Excuse me for not wanting to rush back there by announcing I was pregnant, knowing I'd be expected to bloody well marry you if you'd found out. Until tonight, the only people who knew Aurelian's paternity were me, my mother, and your mother. That's it. I've kept this secret for all of Aurelian's life because, yes, in the beginning I was scared of what admitting the truth would mean for me and for Aurelian, but since then, I've started to tell you a million times. I've marched myself into your office, or almost blurted it out in the lab when you were dropping off some creature or other because I wanted to share how bloody amazing it has been, watching him grow and seeing the person he's becoming. But every time I did, I had the reminder of your wife, and your other son waltzing into the office, or glinting on your bloody finger, or leaving lipstick marks on your cheek.

"And you've been happy, Draco," Hermione said quietly, desperately, hating how her heart was racing, and the fact that his thigh was still wounded and he was still standing there with his pants around his ankles while they argued. "You've been happy. Maybe not bouncing off the walls or gushing in the lunchroom happy, but you haven't complained, and you've thrown around stories about Scorpius, and even though you didn't realise it, I always made sure to share stories with you about the funny things Aurey did when he was teething, and when he'd refuse to take baths, and committed accidental magic. I told you about the time he vanished all of my pants because he decided pants were evil and he hated wearing them. You didn't know I was telling you because of your connection to him, but I told you, just the same."

"Don't you dare stand there and argue that I was absorbing the information even if I wasn't fucking here, Granger," Draco snarled at her, advancing on her slightly and making her blush because he was still naked and he almost tripped over the pants tangled about his feet. "Don't you dare make excuses that I bloody knew things about my son because you told Luna while I was listening, or traded horror stories with me about raising a child. I should have fucking been here to see it! Don't you see that? Can't you understand what you've robbed me of, witch? Maybe I did hear the story about him vanishing all your bloody pants, but I wasn't here to laugh about it, or to encourage the kid to keep them vanished so I could bloody well shag another little brat into you, was I? I wasn't here when he got sick and you had to stay up all night with him, bargaining with Merlin to make him all better. I wasn't here when he took off his nappy and ran about the house in a mess, or when he flung food back in your face, or yanked on your hair, or escaped the bathtub when you looked away to reach for the shampoo. You took all of that from me the minute you kept his paternity from me, Granger."

"As though you'd have been happy to be here, Malfoy?" Hermione challenged. "Look at us! We're so bloody ridiculous that even though you're terribly wounded and standing in my kitchen naked, we're standing here fighting. Do you imagine you'd have been happy to deal with me when I was sleep deprived, and had bags under my eyes, and I was cranky from being up all night trying to get him to eat, and trying to sweet-talk him back to sleep? When he was teething and he screamed bloody murder for a month straight, do you think I was good company? I hissed and snarled at you enough at work during that time. Imagine if you've been here through all of that, catching my bad moods at home, too."

"Imagine how much more real that would've been than going home to wife who never has a hair out of place even though she's fucking one of my friends," Malfoy sneered in retort.

"We'd have been miserable, Malfoy," Hermione argued. "You'd have resented me for not terminating the pregnancy, and for ruining the precious Malfoy reputation by being the first bloody muggleborn in history to have birthed a Malfoy heir. You'd have been as cutting and as cold and as cruel as you know how, and I'd have been a right bloody cow in response. Would that really have been preferable to a witch who smiled, and wanted your attention and a little affection at the end of the day."

"Maybe I'd have fucking given my attention and affection to someone like you," Malfoy spat. "I give you everything else!"

Hermione opened her mouth, intent on retorting even before his words sank in. When they did she stopped, her eyes widening in shock at what he'd said while Malfoy glared at her, breathing hard and looking like he'd said more than he meant, but knew there was no taking it back now.

"Meaning?" she asked quietly.

Malfoy snorted, shaking his head at her and turning away before he stooped to yank his pants back up his legs. He paced away from her across the kitchen and ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you really think I let anyone else see me like this?" he asked, when he turned back to look at her, surprising her with his even tone. "Granger, I'm standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night, yelling at you with my pants around my ankles and no bloody shirt on. Do you actually imagine Astoria's ever seen me do something so undignified? Do you imagine I let anyone ever see me lose my temper the way I lose it with you? Do you think I let just anyone patch me up when I'm minutes from death? Do you think it was a bloody accident that bleeding out, with half my arse burned off and my wife dying in a hospital bed, I turned up in your living room looking for help? Come on. You've seen me interact with the rest of wizarding society. You've seen the way I speak coolly, and act like a ruthless, pompous git, never letting on if anything rattles me."

"What are you saying, Malfoy? That I should feel special because I push you into yelling at me?" Hermione challenged.

Malfoy looked away running his hand through his hair one more time, and sighing heavily.

"I'm saying that somewhere along the way working with you for the past seven years, I've begun to trust you, Hermione," he said quietly, surprising her with his use of her given name, rather than her surname. "Do you think I'd ever go back for more if anyone else called me ten kinds of thick and made me feel like a fucking idiot whenever I got hurt in the field? But I go back to you and let you cuss me out for a fool every bloody time, don't I? Do you think Astoria's ever seen me bleed, or listened to me swear and curse my way through having a Daggertooth pod yanked out of my flesh? Do you think she dares to lose her temper with me and insult me the way you do? Because if that's what you think, you have a warped perception of my marriage and my character, Granger. Yeah, I'd have been a fucking arsehole and I'd have poked and prodded and thrown scathing remarks at you every bloody day and I'd have been a right bloody git about you being pregnant. I'd have probably insisted on marrying you when you refused to terminate, and we'd have fought even more than we do now, but I'd have bloody been here, watching my son grow, and figuring out that you only cuss people out for fools when they get hurt because you actually fucking care, woman."

"And we'd have been as miserable as you are with Astoria," Hermione argued. "I'm not the kind of girl who can live with a man and not be given a kiss goodbye when we part, or a hug hello. I'm not the kind of witch who could be happy in a marriage where the only physical intimacy was from obligatory sex every once in a while, Malfoy. I'd have gone looking for affection just as surely as Astoria did."

Malfoy curled his lip, obviously disliking the reminder of his wife's infidelity, and unhappy hearing that it was in no small part his fault.

"If you really think, with how bloody riled up you make me all the time, that I'd have only ever laid my hands on you for an obligatory shag for the sake of being bloody married, you're a fucking idiot, Granger," he informed her. "You make me so angry I want to rip fistfuls of those curls from your head, and make me want to bend you over that fucking workbench in your lab and fuck you until you stop cussing me out every time you badger me about paperwork and habitats, and climate and all that bloody bullshit. Even being married, more than once I've thought about shutting you the hell up by snogging you into submission. You destroy my self-control in all things, Granger. Do you really think five years of marriage and shagging you silly every other day, I'd have balked at kissing you goodbye?"

He snorted derisively, shaking his head and looking exasperated.

"I'd just have had to bloody get used to it, just like everything else where you're concerned," he said. "And instead, you kept it all from me, raised my kid without me, and now you're standing there telling me it's fine because you shared the stories with me, whether I was listening on not?"

Hermione sighed resignedly, shaking her head to herself and imitating his habit, running her hand through her hair in frustration.

"Look, there's nothing to be done about it now, Malfoy," she pointed out. "I can hardly take it back. This is just how it is. So, are you going to keep growling at me, or can I get back to healing you?"

He stared at her in silence for several long minutes, his expression going utterly blank, and Hermione began to shift uneasily beneath his gaze.

"That's all you've got to say?" he asked finally. "Not even a bloody apology?"

"I already told you I can't take it back, and I thought I was doing the right thing. Regardless of what you project we'd have done, I know we'd have been miserable."

"Yeah, well, now I'm doubly miserable, so thanks a fucking lot, Granger. Not only have I been betrayed by one of the people who somehow wormed her way under my skin so fucking much that I take her council over pretty much everyone else's, but I also ended up marrying a woman all wrong for me. You might not be responsible for my wife's lack of fidelity, but it's entirely because of you that she's my wife when it was apparently meant to be you. And you don't even fucking apologise. Fuck you, Granger. You impossible, stubborn, contrary, vindictive, lying fucking bitch."

He continued cussing her out, calling her every name he could think of and while at first, she felt offended and maybe even hurt, as he continued cursing her, growing more and more creative as he grew more and more hysterical, Hermione realised that she really had hurt him. He wasn't just angry because she'd lied to him, or because his wife was unfaithful, or because he was focusing on everything that might've been. No, as she watched him clench his fists before pressing them both to his eyes, tipping his head back while he gritted his teeth on the urge to shout at her some more, or maybe just to roar in a rage, Hermione realised that he was on the verge of breaking down.

He'd had a positively wretched day. His wife admitted to hospital, his mother and his colleague both caught lying to him, attacked by several different magical creatures, discovering that his wife had cheated on him and that he had a second, illegitimate son he'd never known about had clearly pushed Draco Malfoy to his limit. Shame twisted her gut for the part she'd played in upsetting him, and without thinking, Hermione crossed the kitchen, invading his space before wrapping her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his bare chest, surprised at the warmth of his skin even as she listened to the way his breath came in strangled gasps while he tried not to scream or cry, or to break down and sob.

Malfoy tensed in her hold, seeming surprised by her actions and she supposed he wasn't all that used to having anyone hug him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, finding as she said it that she really did mean it. "I'm sorry I kept Aurelian's existence from you, and I'm sorry I lied about his paternity, and I'm sorry you married a woman who doesn't know that the best way to engage you is to get right up in your face and call you a git. I'm…. I'm sorry I hurt you, Draco."

She hugged him as tightly as she could, feeling the way his breath grew more laboured, catching in his throat like he couldn't stand it. When he lowered his hands from his face and wrapped his arms around her body, Hermione squirmed. He wasn't gentle. He was too distraught for that. No, he didn't hold her like he'd forgiven her. He held her like he hated her, his arms crushing her to him so tightly she was sure she'd have bruises. He squeezed her like it took everything he had not to try and break her – to hurt her as she'd hurt him – and Hermione gritted her teeth and buried her head in his chest and endured the embrace until finally a single, ragged sob escaped him before he locked himself down.

His arms loosened around her until he held her comfortably and he buried his face in her hair, trying to control his breathing. Hermione didn't even think about it as she smoothed her hands in soothing circles over his back, murmuring that she was sorry, and that everything would be alright, and that they'd all figure something out.

"She's going to take my kid, Granger," he muttered into her hair after what felt like hours of just the two of them standing there together and holding one another.

"She won't," Hermione tried to reassure him.

"You did," he pointed out, still holding her clutched in his arms.

"She's not going to take Scorpius from you, Draco," Hermione said. "If it comes down to it that you have to take her to trial to keep him, I'll help you."

Malfoy heaved a sigh, curling his arms around her a little tighter and Hermione tried really hard not to notice how good it felt to be being cuddled into someone's arms. Into his arms, in particular. This was so not what she needed, right now. He was supposed to be off limits. Her mother's words about giving things a go with Malfoy were not supposed to be heeded. She had to sort out her priorities.

"Let's heal that leg and get you to bed, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "You've had a really rotten day, I think."

He snorted at the understatement before releasing her. He didn't even hesitate before lowering his pants once more to reveal the gash on his leg, and Hermione bent to heal it, summoning the murtlap essence with a flick of her wand before smearing the cool and soothing liquid of his leg. He tensed at the touch before slowly relaxing as some of the pain faded. Hermione applied dittany after the murtlap essence, before swivelling her finger at him one more time.

"Show me the other side," she said. "I know your mother didn't heal it all from the way you've been wincing."

"It's fine," he argued, his voice still thick with emotion.

Despite the protests, he turned around, revealing his bum and Hermione shook her head when she spotted the reason for his continued wincing. Narcissa had healed the burns as best she could, but Draco also had a small puncture hole on the back of his thigh that coincided with the gash on the front of it which she'd just healed. Applying the same treatment, she rose to her feet once more, watching Malfoy hike his pants back up over his private areas before he gave her a long, resigned look. Hermione could tell that he didn't want to go home. That he couldn't face fighting with his parents some more over how to handle Astoria's infidelity and Scorpius's custody, or confronting his mother with their secret, or arguing with his father about the morality of Astoria's attempted murder.

"Come on," Hermione said quietly, knowing she shouldn't invite him to stay, and especially knowing it might be a very dangerous thing to let him stay in her bed. But it was already filled with three small boys whose presence would surely keep the two of them from doing something they shouldn't, and really, what was the harm? No one would ever know. Except the two of them, and Narcissa, and the woman had instructed her to seduce Draco for the sake of calming him down, so Hermione doubted she would mind if Draco just slept over.

She offered Malfoy her hand, watching the way he eyed it like he didn't know if he should slap it away, or if he should take it inside his own. When he reached out and took it, Hermione knew it was with no small amount of mistrust, and she supposed, given that she'd kept his son from him for five years, she didn't blame him. Leading him back up the stairs, Hermione flicked her wand to douse all the lights as they went, letting herself back into her bedroom where three small, blond boys were sprawled across her mattress like snow angels.

She heard a soft snort escape Malfoy when she stopped in the doorway, shaking her head at the sight the three of them made. Like pale starfishes, they were all spread out and taking up all of the space.

"I don't think there's room for two more," Malfoy muttered.

"Nonsense," Hermione said. "They're all only small. We'll both fit."

"You really want to invite me into bed with you, Granger?" Malfoy asked her, and Hermione turned to look up at him.

"You've had a bad day," she said. "And if you go home, it'll just get worse. And it would be cruel to wake Scorpius just to apparate him home."

"I could sleep in the spare," he offered quietly.

"You can if you want to," Hermione said. "I just thought you'd prefer to be near Scorpius."

Draco nodded, looking beyond weary and Hermione sighed softly as she led him over to the end of the bed. Intent on claiming the spot she'd had before between Aurelian and Scorpius, Hermione crawled across the end of the bed and carefully rearranged her son to make room for herself. He didn't even stir, sleeping too deeply to notice she'd left, let alone that she'd returned. When she'd burrowed under the covers, Hermione helped to rearranged Scorpius too, to better allow Draco to climb into bed as well.

Her stomach flipped with nerves at the thought of sharing her bed with him, and Hermione began to think that she had a small problem. When Malfoy had arranged himself to lie on his side with one arm looped around his son - the small boy snuggled against his chest - Hermione flicked her wand and doused the remaining light within the room, plunging them all into darkness.

Her breath hitched just a little at the sudden tension inside of her to be curled into bed beside the likes of Draco Malfoy.

"Granger?" Malfoy asked in a whisper just as she'd begun to drift off.

"Mmmm?" Hermione hummed sleepily.

"Every night could've ended like this," she heard him mutter, and her heart squeezed inside her chest, doubting it was true, but suddenly wishing that it could've been, just the same.


	16. Chapter 15

Astoria Malfoy stared up at the ceiling of her hospital suite, trying desperately to keep tears of panic from streaming down her cheeks. The drip-line in her arm had stabilised her emotions and her symptoms for the time being, but she knew it was all just a matter of time.

They were going to find out. She'd spent so much time worrying – so much time stressing and hounding Adrian and agonising over whether to terminate her pregnancy - and now it was all going to be thrown out there. She was sure that her mother-in-law and perhaps even her husband knew, by now. She didn't have to be a genius to figure out why the midwife had insisted on a blood sample from the baby when she was already in a delicate condition.

Granger had seen her fighting with Adrian about what they were going to do, and Astoria would bet every Galleon in her bank vault that the little bitch had gone running to Draco about it. She and Draco had been fighting ever since then. Merlin, she felt like they'd spent their entire marriage fighting, if she was being honest.

She was just so tired. Tired of the lies. Tired of being ignored, and untouched, and unloved by her husband. Her mother had warned her this would happen. Even Daphne had warned her that Draco was cold and cruel, and that he always would be. Astoria  _hated_  that they'd been proved right, and she hated at she was now in this position. She should never have married him. She might love her son as much as any woman could love a child she resented, just a little, but Merlin's beard, she wished she'd never married Draco Malfoy.

She'd been staring at the ceiling for hours. Waiting. They'd know by now. Paternity was not something that took a long time to test, and despite having spent a good deal of the afternoon in her presence, Narcissa had not been her usual, chatty self.

They knew.

They must.

How could they not. The baby growing in her womb was not Draco's, and that meant they knew about the affair, and it was only a matter of time before they did something to clean up this mess she'd made. Astoria was no fool. She knew that her days were numbered now. She wondered how they might do it. Would they pay off a midwife or a healer to inject poison into her dripline? Maybe hire a discreet vampire to come in the night and drain her dry? Perhaps Lucius would come himself and wield the Killing Curse with deadly effect, as Astoria was certain he'd done many times before.

She didn't know how they would kill her, but she knew she might never leave the hospital. They couldn't afford the exposure of a trial to squabble over custody and finalise a divorce. Divorce wasn't the done thing in the wizarding world. No, the Malfoy's would have her killed, and they'd make it look like an accident. The tragedy of an illness targeting pregnant women claiming it's first, and perhaps it's only victim. Knowing Lucius, he might even kill off one of the other five women who'd been admitted with her symptoms. Ginny Potter would make a good choice. The hype that would generate would surely cover their tracks and keep anyone from thinking twice about poor Astoria Malfoy also succumbing to the illness. She probably wouldn't even get more than an honourable mention in the story the papers would spin were Ginny to perish alongside her.

And Lucius was crafty and cunning. He would be all too aware of those facts.

They must know by now. Draco must. He hadn't been by to check on her during visiting hours. He'd barely even looked concerned when Narcissa had announced she would be escorting her to hospital. How could she have been so stupid as to think he could love her? He'd never loved her. If she hadn't seen firsthand proof in the way he interacted with Scorpius, Astoria might even think that Draco was incapable of love.

Sighing, she wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks, trying to tell herself that things would all work out. Someone would come to save her from this nightmare. Merlin, she wished Adrian was there. She'd fallen in love with the idiot long before she'd ever set her sights on becoming the next Lady Malfoy, and before he'd met his pretty, precious wife. Back when they'd been dumb kids, he'd been all she ever wanted, and on days like today he still was.

She should never have married Draco. She should have ignored her father's money grabbing sentiments and married Adrian when he'd asked her. She'd have been happier for it, she was sure. Closing her eyes and knowing no one else was going to come calling on her tonight, no matter how hard she wished, Astoria wondered if she'd even wake up tomorrow. Maybe Lucius's assassin would come in the night while she slept, and this nightmare would finally be over.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Lucius Malfoy didn't sleep a wink that night. Beside him in their king-sized bed, his wife slept lightly, seeming agitated even in slumber, and he stared at the canopy over the bed into the wee small hours, nervousness gnawing in his gut.

Draco hadn't come home.

He'd been of half a mind to seek him out at the townhouse, but perhaps the boy wasn't ready to hear the hard truths about his wife's impending fate. Perhaps he'd stayed away for the sake of avoiding another fight. Lucius couldn't blame him for that. Slanting a look at his wife when she snuffled across the bed and laid her head on his chest, Lucius felt one corner of his mouth twitch in a smile at the way she fussed while she slept.

She'd had his heart for longer than he could remember and to have her in his bed and in his arms so many years after their wedding, despite the Dark Lord and the war and his stint in prison was more than he'd ever hoped for. He couldn't conceive Draco's feelings about his own wife because he'd never personally experienced them. He knew Narcissa would be cold in her grave before she'd ever looked at another man. He knew there was no fear of infidelity or divorce in his future.

He'd thought about sending someone that very evening to dispose of his daughter in law, but he'd heeded his wife's council about speaking with Draco first. The boy would lose his temper if they acted without his knowledge, even if it was for the good of the family, and he didn't fancy adding to Draco's reasons to grow upset with him. There were more than enough of those already, thank you very much.

Sighing and curling his arm around Narcissa when she burrowed deeper into his side, craving his warmth, Lucius pulled her close and closed his eyes. Willing himself to sleep, he tried to ignore the niggling thought in the back of his mind that there was a whole lot more to this mess than he currently knew.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Early morning rain clouds hung heavy over the world that found a peculiar scene in the master bedroom of the Granger residence the following morning. Three small boys under ten, one with a splash of turquoise in his fringe, laid sprawled across and enormous queen bed like drunken starfish, somehow managing, with their tiny, splayed bodies, to take up three quarters of the available bedspace. The remaining quarter was occupied by two rather cramped looking adults whom, by all obvious accounts, should have been the ones taking up the majority of the space.

None of them stirred despite the birds beginning their morning symphony outside the window as the sun began to rise. A witch with unruly curls breathed steadily, her cheek pillowed on the chest of a wizard with short platinum hair that stood rather haphazardly thanks to the toddler that had claimed the witch's pillow for his sleeping space to better stick his hands in his father's hair while they all slept on.

The wizard, for his part, was balanced precariously right on the very edge of the bed, looking rather like it was a position he was accustomed to despite never having shared a bed with this witch, or two of the three present children before this occasion. Indeed, he looked not at all phased that one of his feet hung off the edge of the bed just a bit, sticking out from under the sheet and exposed the nippy morning air. His three-year-old son had his hands buried in the wizard's hair, his body sprawled over the pillow the witch had been forced to vacate.

His arms, with no room to sprawl out anywhere else, were curled securely around the witch using him for a pillow and despite his slumber, a little half-smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he dreamed. Suddenly, from beyond the snug bedroom, thunder cracked across the sky, the heavy rain clouds splitting open to unleash their deluge.

Jerking awake in bed, Draco Malfoy gasped, his stomach jolting and his heat skipping a beat as he was hurled from slumber to wakefulness in a second flat. Attempting to sit up, Draco emitted a strangled sound of confused protest when he found his body pinned to the bed thanks to a heavy weight sprawled across his groin, and another belted across his stomach. Turning his head and grizzling as though he were a disgruntled toddler himself, Draco tried to make sense of just why it was that he was currently unable to do more than fail his legs in bamboozled protest.

He froze when a wild cloud of brown curls filled his vision, obscuring his face and alerting him to the identity of the witch using him for a cuddle-pillow.

"Granger?" he asked, frowning in confusion and trying to figure out where he was and why in Merlin's name Hermione Granger's hair was attempting to suffocate him.

She grizzled without opening her eyes, snuggling her face against his chest and Draco blinked, realising that he wasn't dreaming and that Hermione Granger was, in fact, using his chest for a pillow.

"Merlin's beard," he muttered to himself, squinting in the direction of the window when another boom of thunder cracked so loudly it shook the windows in their panes.

Raindrops streaked across the glass, blurring the world outside and it occurred to Draco's sluggish and sleep-addled brain that it was a Saturday, and that he really didn't need to be awake just yet. Grumbling under his breath at being woken up in the first place, and too tired to concern himself with the whyfors and withertos of Hermione Granger using him for a pillow, he shuffled his shoulders a little further across the bed, pressing into the soft warmth of the witch he was snuggled up to, and closing his eyes.

It was the weekend, his whole body ached, and it was bloody storming outside. He was going to go back to sleep until he felt better, and then he was going to figure everything out later. Granger grizzled again at being jostled as he moved her across the bed a little to make more space for himself, and Draco opened one eye a bit when she huffed suddenly. He smirked when he noticed that Scorpius was sleeping on her pillow and the small boy had just toppled off of it to land against her back, still deeply asleep. Beyond the witch and his son, two other small boys slept on, oblivious to the storm raging outside the windows in the predawn world.

His cousin was across the bed, his face buried in a pillow and his limbs imitating a swastika. Between Teddy and Granger laid the boy Draco had little doubt was, in fact, his firstborn son. He was clearly imitating a starfish, his arms and legs spread as far as they would go while he slept on his stomach, his blond curls partially obscuring his face as he dreamed. Shaking his head and smirking to himself just a bit, Draco let his eyes drift closed once more, determined to catch a few more hours sleep before the three little terrors would, undoubtedly, drag him from slumber with demands for breakfast and games and maybe even an explanation for his presence amongst them.

He fell asleep with his arms full of witch, and for the first time in longer than he could recall, he didn't mind that one little bit.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Wendy Granger frowned as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning. She'd been trying to call her daughter for several hours, usually expecting that she, Hermione, and Aurelian would spend Saturday together perusing the markets and shops of down-town London, and even strolling down Diagon Alley if there was something magically-minded that Hermione needed. The young woman ought to have been there hours ago, but she hadn't called, or popped by to say something had come up, and Wendy was beginning to get more than little bit worried.

Frowning when she saw that it was nearing ten o'clock, and knowing that Hermione's phone wasn't being answered, Wendy Granger picked up her purse, collected her car keys and left her London house, intent on discovering just what had become of her daughter and her grandson.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Aurelian Granger grinned when he woke up and looked across the mattress toward his mother.

"Mummy?" he whispered to her, sitting up as he came fully awake with his tummy rumbling.

She didn't stir, and Aurelian's smile grew wider when he noticed that Mr Draco was in the bed alongside them, his arms curled around Mummy while she slept. He was asleep too, and Aurelian couldn't hold back his wide, happy smile. Maybe he was going to get a Daddy after all.

Reaching for Teddy, Aurelian shook the other boy awake.

"Wha'…?" Teddy grumbled, never liking to be woken up.

"Wake up!" Aurelian said. "I'm hungry."

Teddy made a sound of protest before Aurelian grinned to himself and gave his best friend a shove. Right off the edge of the mattress. Teddy gasped and squawked in protest when he hit the floor with a thump, sitting up and glaring at Aurey crankily.

"What'd you do that for?" Teddy growled at him.

"It's time to get up," Aurelian said in a whisper, not wanting to wake Mummy when she was sleeping so soundly.

Reaching for his other best friend, Aurelian dragged Scorpius across the mattress toward himself, peeling the boy off Mummy's back where he'd cuddled into her.

Scorpius blinked his eyes open when Aurelian rolled him to his back, staring at him in confusion.

"Wake up, sleepy," Aurelian said. "Let's get some breakfast."

"Bwekfast?" Scorpius asked, grinning immediately and sitting up.

"Come on," Aurey said.

"What about Daddy?" Scorpius asked, pointing toward Mr Draco where he was still cuddling Mummy.

"He's sleeping. And he's hurt. Mummy says we need more sleep when we're hurt. Look at those bruises. Come on. Della will make us breakfast. Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg!"

The three small boys raced down the stairs in their pyjamas, making rather more noise than they thought. Aurelian grinned when Teddy pulled ahead of them, his longer legs allowing him to jump down more steps in a row without falling. Mindful of Scorp's shorter legs, Aurey went slower, not minding if he lost the race when Scorpius tripped on the stairs and went tumbling down them, only to collide with Aurelian's legs.

"You alright?" he asked the younger boy, helping him to his feet.

"Whoops," Scorpius said, grinning and reaching a hand toward his head where a large goose-egg was beginning to form.

"Does it hurt?" Aurey asked, poking the bump.

"Yeah," Scorpius said. "But now I look like Daddy."

Aurey nodded. "Daddy is covered in lots of bumps today."

As the two young boys bounced down the remaining stairs, neither of them thought much of Aurey's reference to Mr Draco as 'Daddy'.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Harry Potter had been out of bed for many hours before visiting hours were allowed at the hospital. Without his wife beside him, he'd barely slept a wink, and he was tired and cranky by the time he stopped for a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't live without her. And Merlin curse it all, he'd fought a Dark Lord! He could fight whatever was wrong with Ginny and get her better, too.

Stomping into Ginny's room as soon as he was allowed, his found his wife sitting up in bed and looking positively livid about something.

"Everything alright, love?" he asked, frowning when he saw Ginny's angry expression.

"I want to go home," she announced.

"You're sick, Ginny. You can't come home until you're better," he informed her.

"I'm already better. I'll go to Mum's if I have to, but I  _refuse_  to spend another night in this bloody hospital, Harry. I don't care what you have to do or who you have to arrest, you get me out of here, or so help me, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Ginny," Harry began, thinking about reasoning with the woman.

The look she fixed him was positively wrathful and Harry paused.

"Was your night that bad?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"You  _know_  I never get any sleep when I'm away from you. And the healers were coming and going all night, checking on me and waking me up every time I dozed off. I don't know how people ever actually get better in hospitals when rest is vital and these harpies are determined to keep me from having any."

"Miss me, did you?" Harry teased gently, smiling at her tiredly as he crossed the room to perch on the edge of her bed before carding a hand through her loose red hair.

"Terribly so," Ginny admitted. "Please can I go home?"

"I don't know if they'll let you leave, love," Harry sighed. "You were very unwell yesterday, and the other women are suffering too. You don't want to risk the baby, do you?"

"I'm at more risk of losing the baby here when these people won't let me sleep. I want to go home where I can eat decent food instead of the rubbish they tried to feed me, and I can have you holding me. We can go to Mum's, or maybe she could come and stay for a few days. She'll be in here fussing at me any minute, I'm sure."

Right on cue, Molly Weasley bustled into the room wearing a care-worn expression and carrying a wrapped dish.

"Mrs Weasley," Harry smiled at his mother in law.

"Hello, Harry dear. Ginny, darling, how are you?" Molly said.

"Tired and cranky," Ginny replied. "Harry's going to pull some strings to get me out of here. Will you come by our place and stay a few days until I'm back on my feet, Mum?"

"Oh, darling, are you sure that's the best thing? The Healers were saying last night that this is actually quite serious."

"I was just a little anaemic, Mum," Ginny rolled her eyes. "These symptoms are normal for pregnant women who are carrying magically powerful children. You said so yourself."

Molly frowned and darted a look at Harry.

'Darling, these are five other women down the hall suffering the same thing. I hardly think this is just pregnancy symptoms anymore," Molly said.

"The healers said I could leave, if I really want to," Ginny pouted. "Please get me out of here. I'll take all of my potions and stay on bed-rest if I have to. Just get me out of this horrible place."

Harry caved under her pleading expression, even knowing that his adoration for the witch and his own rubbish night were factoring into the decision.

"I'll speak with the Healers," he said. "You better eat what your Mum's brought you, and if you can keep it down and they show me everything I need to know to get you well at home, I'll get you out of here."

Ginny smiled widely.

"I love you, Harry," she said, beaming.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, love you too, Gin."

He strolled out of the room intent on finding a healer, and thinking that even if they gave him the all clear, he wasn't about to take his wife anywhere until he spoke to Hermione about what  _she_  thought might be causing all of this and whether or not she recommended he get Ginny out of there.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione blinked her eyes open when she heard the sound of the front door slamming downstairs. Frowning as she squinted against the crack of lightning flashing outside the window, she tried to make sense of her surroundings, wondering idly why she felt so warm.

"Aurey?" she asked, lifting her head and searching the bed for a sign of her son.

Her eyes skidded to a stop when she spotted the muscled, and currently bruised arm of a wizard where it was looped over her waist. Her heart skipped a beat inside her chest, her stomach flipping nervously. She'd know that signet ring and faded Dark Mark tattoo anywhere.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered, turning her head further and peering down at Draco Malfoy where he slept spooned around her snugly. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy stirred at the sound of her voice even as Hermione's ear caught the sounds of conversation coming from downstairs.

"Hermione?" someone called.

It sounded like her mother.

"Gran?" Hermione heard Aurey shout, and she listened the patter of three small boys converging on someone.

"Aurelian? Hello, darling," Hermione heard her mother say.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered when she realised what was happening. "Malfoy? Malfoy, wake up!"

"Shhhh. More sleep," he murmured to her, tightening his arm around her middle.

"No more sleep, Malfoy. My mother is about to invade this bedroom and demand answers as to why I'm late to our shopping date. What time is it?" Hermione turned her head paling when she spotted the clock and saw that it was almost noon.

"Granger?" Malfoy asked, his voice low and raspy with sleep. Hermione hated the way it made parts of her tingle that had no business tingling in his presence.

"We need to get up," she informed him, trying to peel his arm from around her middle and only succeeding in allowing him to capture her hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, better holding her captive, and Hermione struggled against him to no avail.

She froze amid her wiggling when she suddenly became aware of the part of his anatomy that she'd gotten such a good look at during their fight last night, and it seemed rather eager to acquaint itself with her.

"Malfoy, get off. My mother is here. It's almost midday. We need to get up. Merlin, where are the boys? Into mischief, I'll bet. Would you let go? I need to…mmfph."

He cut her off when he suddenly rolled her to her back, leaned over her and planted his lips on hers. His lips were soft, almost teasing as he stole a kiss from her and Hermione hissed when he smoothed his hand over her stomach and slowly south, sliding his fingers under the waistband of her pyjamas. Shocked at his bold actions, and wondering if perhaps she was dreaming, Hermione's worries about her son and her mother flew out the window and without thinking, she kissed Draco back hungrily.

Reaching for him, she tangled her hands into his hair, kissing him as she hadn't since the night Aurelian had been conceived. He coaxed her lips to part with a teasing swipe of his tongue and Hermione surrendered before she could think better of it. Merlin's ghost, but she'd forgotten that toe-curling sizzle of passion between them.

"Gran, Mummy's sleeping," Aurelian's voice suddenly came from the hall outside the bedroom and Hermione froze, snatching hold of Malfoy's wrist before he could slide his hand any deeper into her knickers and fishing it out just in time to hear her mother's voice.

"It's awfully late to be sleeping, Aurey, are you quite sure she's well? It's not like her to… oh my goodness?" Wendy Granger stopped mid-sentence, gasping in shock.

Hermione wrenched her lips away from Draco's and peered past him toward the doorway where her mother was stopped, standing with her jaw dangling open and her eyes wide even as her cheeks reddened.

"Erm… hi, Mum," Hermione said lamely, her own cheeks flaming and her stomach twisted in knots at the sight of her mother catching her red handed with Malfoy. The father of her son. A married man. Merlin, she would never hear the end of it!

"Uh oh," she heard Malfoy mutter as he rolled away, sitting up quickly and shooting Hermione a wide-eyed, concerned expression before darting another look at her mother, and at the three young boys clamouring around her trying to see what was going on.

"Hermione?" Wendy asked, seeming shocked.

"Um… it's not what it looks like?" she said, aware of the way her voice kicked up at the end, making her seem rather unsure of herself.

"Isn't it?" Malfoy muttered beside her, running a hand through his hair and searching the floor as though he might locate his shirt, despite having not arrived in her bedroom wearing one last night.

"I um… why don't I meet you downstairs in a few minutes, darling?" Wendy Granger suggested, her cheeks bright pink and her voice coming out squeaky with her shock.

"Okay," Hermione managed.

"Did you sleep good, Mummy?" Aurey chose that moment to ask, dashing into the room and climbing up on the bed before his grandmother could catch him.

"I… yes, darling. Thank you. Did you?" Hermione said, catching the small boy.

"Yes," Aurey nodded. "We got up hours ago, but you and Mr Draco were sleepy. Della made us pancake. And we've been playing downstairs while you slept."

"That was… very kind of you, Aurey," Hermione said. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You were all snuggled up with Mr Draco," Aurey said, smiling mischievously. "And he's hurted. Me, Teddy and Scorp decided to let you sleep so he'd get better."

"Um… right," Hermione said, shooting a glance at Malfoy.

He was too busy scooping up an excitable toddler when Scorpius chose that moment to run into the room and jump on his father.

"Hi, Daddy," Scorpius greeted his father happily, climbing all over him and toppling Draco back toward the pillows with his enthusiasm.

"Hey Scorp," Draco said quietly, wincing when the small boy sat on his stomach heedless of the bites, slashes, and bruises littering Malfoy's torso.

"Sleep good?" Scorpius asked.

"Sure did," Draco nodded, smiling at his son. "You?"

Scorpius nodded his head vigorously.

"We always sleep here now?" he asked. "Nice here."

Malfoy darted a glance at her.

"Boys?" Wendy called. "Why don't we all go downstairs? You can help Gran make a cup of tea, won't that be nice?"

Aurelian and Scorpius both looked over and Wendy beckoned them.

"I like tea," Teddy piped up.

"Me too, Teddy," Wendy said. "Tea for everyone. Boys, come along."

Aurelian looked up at Hermione for a moment, smiling mischievously.

"We let you and Scorp's Daddy get dressed, Mummy," the small boy said, crawling out of her lap and taking Scorpius's hand, pulling him toward the door.

Hermione blushed crimson as her mother led all three boys downstairs. Groaning, she flopped back on the bed and put her pillow over her face.

"Well, that was...awkward," Malfoy said after a moment of tense silence.

"What are you still doing here?" Hermione asked, flinging the pillow away and frowning at him as she sat up.

He frowned in return. "Until a few minutes ago, I was fast asleep."

"You were spooning me!" she pointed out. "You... snogged me. You can't just... You're still  _married_ , Malfoy. Remember? You can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it. I allowed it last night to better reason with you because you were upset, but this isn't... we're not... I mean, I'm not about to be your rebound."

Malfoy sighed, his brow furrowing while he ran a hand through his hair.

"Right. Shit."

"You probably need to go, Malfoy," Hermione said, climbing out of bed and crossing the room to scoop up her dressing gown.

"Go where?" he asked. "Home? To shout at my mother for hiding my son from me? Or to fight with my father about an appropriate way to handle my wife's infidelity?"

"Well, you can't just stay here. The last thing you need if you're filing for divorce is someone getting wind of this... this… mess... between us."

He scowled.

"The last thing  _you_  need, you mean?" he challenged. "Hard to hide that I'm your son's father if everyone's looking, eh?"

"That isn't the point, Malfoy. If you really mean to divorce Astoria, you need to keep from violating your prenuptial agreement."

"My prenup says I can be intimate with the mother(s) of my children," he sneered in retort. "And  _finally_ , that bracketed 's' makes sense. Mother knew about this bloody mess even before drawing up my marriage contract, huh?"

"Malfoy," Hermione warned, glaring at him as he got out of bed and narrowed his eyes on her from across the room.

"You didn't think I'd just get over it, did you?" He challenged.

Hermione sighed, not interested in fighting with him. Stomping across the room, she dug into her closet and fished out one of Ron's old hoodies. She flung it at Malfoy, knowing he didn't have another shirt to put on and not about to deal with the added awkwardness of him tromping about her house half-naked in front of her mother. The woman was incorrigible enough without adding to her fantasies of seeing the two of them become an item by letting her get even more of an eyeful of Draco's perfection than she'd already seen. He caught it one handed, still glaring at her even as Hermione left the room.

"The zipper is broken," he growled, following her.

"Go home if you want something better!" Hermione retorted, hurrying downstairs before her mother could begin drawing any wild assumptions.

She was practically jogging as she hurried through the house, intent on finding her mother and the children rather than continuing to argue with Malfoy. That could be saved for later, when Hermione mother wasn't there to draw conclusions and begin plotting ideas. It was bad enough that she would have to meet Draco in short order, something Hermione had been insistent would not happen in this lifetime whenever Wendy brought up Aurelian's paternity.

"Oh, my... Aurey! What have you done?" Hermione said as she stopped dead in her tracks upon entering the lounge room downstairs that led off the kitchen. Toys were scattered across every surface, and it looked like the boys had gotten into every sticky substance in the fridge and pantry that they could get their hands on. Jammy hand prints, peanut butter, Marmite, spaghetti sauce, milk, juice, and an assortment of other substances coated every surface of the kitchen, making it look rather like everything she owned had exploded, and Hermione frowned trying to figure out how they'd made such a mess without getting covered in it themselves.

"We played, Mummy," Aurey said, smiling as though proud of himself for finding a way to occupy his time. "We played so you could sleep."

Malfoy walked right into her back thanks to the way she'd stopped so abruptly, his hands lifting to grip her hips to prevent her from falling forwards and Hermione squeaked, shaking her head as her mouth hung open in silent protest of the mess in her kitchen.

"Blimey!" he exclaimed. "What happened in here?"

"Sowwy, Daddy," Scorpius apologised, looking guilty and obviously realising that they were all about to be in big trouble.

"You did this?" Draco asked his youngest son. "How? Why? Blimey, Scorpius, this isn't the Manor! You can't just get into everything and make a huge mess. Granger doesn't have a collection of House Elves to clean up after you, son."

"It wasn't just him," Teddy owned up. "We were having fun. I'm sorry, Aunt Hermione."

Hermione opened her mouth, frowning.

"I... I appreciate the apology, Teddy. And you, Scorpius. Aurey, what do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

Aurey hung his head, deflating like a puncture balloon when he realised she was upset, rather than pleased that they'd let her sleep in.

"Sorry, Mummy. We were having fun," Aurelian offered the same excuse as Teddy.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head and wondering what he poor mother must think of her.

"Know any good cleaning charms?" Malfoy asked, peering at her sideways and raising one eyebrow after he stepped around her to enter the kitchen as well, looking like he didn't quite know where to begin in order to begin cleaning up such a mess.

Hermione nodded, pulling her wand from her pocket and twirling it in the direction of the mess, enunciating the spell for cleaning charms. Malfoy copied her after a moment, apparently happy to help tidy up when it'd been his sons causing the mess in the first place. When every surface sparkled like new, Hermione turned toward her mother, noting that the woman had her back to them when she stood at the sink, waiting of the kettle to boil.

"Mum?" Hermione asked hesitantly, stepping further into the kitchen. "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

"It's Saturday," Wendy Granger said, turning to face her and frowning in Hermione's direction. "I was expecting you and Aurey this morning for our outing, and you didn't turn up. I tried to call, but you weren't answering the phone, and I got worried. So, I drove over here to make sure everything was alright. Is it? Alright, I mean?"

Wendy traced her eyes over Hermione, and Hermione was sure she must look a fright. Sharing her bed with Malfoy and three small boys was not conducive to a good night's rest.

"I'm fine, Mum. I'm sorry I worried you. I must've forgotten to charge my phone. I… actually I don't even know where it is, if I'm being honest. Erm… anyway…. This is Draco." Hermione offered lamely, fluttering a hand in Malfoy's direction. "Malfoy, this is my mother, Wendy Granger."

Malfoy raised one eyebrow at the introduction.

"How do you do, Mrs Granger?" he said politely, stepping forward and dodging around his sons as he offered his hand to Hermione's mother like it was no big deal that he was meeting a muggle, and that he was wearing pyjamas and a hoodie with a broken zipper, his abs peeking through the gap.

"Well, thank you," Wendy said, hesitantly shaking Malfoy's hand while she traced her eyes over him. "My, but you really  _do_  look just like Aurelian, don't you?"

Hermione gasped, supposing she should've known her meddlesome mother would say something that would draw attention to the link between Draco and Aurelian.

"Almost identical," Draco said coolly, agreeing with the woman.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Boys, why don't you go and put on a movie in the lounge room?" she suggested. "It's much too wet to be going outside. Go on, and we'll all have a nice cup of tea in there, hmm?"

"Really?" Aurelian asked, very rarely allowed to watch television

"Really, really," Hermione said, smiling indulgently. "How about we watch ' _Shrek',_ darling?"

"Awesome!" Aurelian cheered. "Come on, Scorpius. Teddy, I'll race you!"

All three boys raced out of the room with more energy than Hermione thought she could stomach. Malfoy waited until the boys were all out of the room, shouting in the lounge as they squabbled over who would get the best seat on the couch before Aurelian realised he would need to find the film and put it in the player.

"So," Malfoy drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her while Hermione crossed the kitchen, intent on making tea.

She turned to look at him, noting the way her mother was still eyeing the wizard speculatively.

"Did everyone know before me, Granger?" he demanded, and Hermione sighed.

"Aurelian doesn't," she informed him. "And I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much."

"The minute I'm divorced, you know that's going to change, yeah?" Malfoy asked, glaring at her.

"You can't just waltz in here after five bloody years and start making demands about all…" Hermione began hotly, setting the mugs on the bench and little harder than necessary.

Malfoy cut her off.

"Waltz in?" he challenged. "Witch, I'd have made myself at home five bloody years ago if you blasted well  _told_  me!"

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing that was the last thing her mother needed to get wind of if she was ever going to leave off with pestering Hermione to make a go of things with the man.

"You need to stop deluding yourself, Draco," Hermione retorted. "And you need to leave. Need I remind you that you have a hospitalised wife to deal with?"

"I have a bloody kid to deal with, too," he informed her, snatching his tea-cup from her hands when she carried it over to him.

"Lower your voice, Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "And leave off, alright? You need to go home. You can't stay here. Go home and deal with your wife, and deal with your mother and just leave me alone, alright?"

"Hermione," Wendy admonished, frowning at her as she interrupted.

"I'm not just walking out the door. Knowing you, you'll uproot the two of you and disappear to Romania or something!" Malfoy said hotly.

"Leave Scorpius here, if you must," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Leave my other son with you as collateral to keep you from fleeing the bloody country? Yeah, sure. That's what I'm going to do."

"Then take him and get out. Either way, I want you out of this house. You're still married, and I won't be your excuse to have you hiding from your problems."

"My wife is a cheating whore," he reminded her.

"She's also very sick, locked up in hospital and  _extremely_  vulnerable to whatever plan your father might be implementing to off her despite your insistence on divorce rather than assassination," Hermione pointed out.

"Assassination?" Wendy gasped, her expression growing horrified.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione smiled. "The man you'd have me run off with just because of his connection to Aurey comes from a family who are very seriously considering the murder of their daughter-in-law just because she cheated on Draco and got pregnant to another man."

"I…. my goodness!" Wendy exclaimed.

"My father wouldn't go against my wishes and have her killed, Granger," Draco argued.

Hermione raised one eyebrow silently in challenge and he narrowed his eyes on her, obviously recognising her doubt and knowing it was warranted.

"I… well… fuck!" Draco snarled.

Hermione shook her head, watching his skol the tea she'd made for him before he handed the cup back to her. He narrowed his eyes, invading her personal space as he looked down at her, looming over her threateningly.

"You better be here when I come back for Scorpius, Granger," he warned. "You and I are nowhere near through with this discussion."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, thinking seriously about telling him to go fuck himself, but knowing it would be a very bad thing to say in front of her mother.

"Just leave and deal with your problems without dragging me any further into them, Draco," Hermione sighed. "And when you've finished shouting at her, send your mother over. I need to have a word with her."

"So you can conspire against me all the more?" he huffed.

"So the two of us can figure out how to keep your father from making Aurelian and I his next targets after he bumps off Astoria when he finds out about this," Hermione corrected.

Draco's left eye twitched, his expression morphing into one that she hadn't seen in a very long time and she realised with the strangest sense of elated bafflement that the very notion of what Lucius would do when he found out Draco had fathered a son with a mudblood actually scared Malfoy silly.

"Right," he muttered. "I… see you later, Granger."

He nodded at her mother before he turned and strode out of the room. Hermione closed her eyes, not saying a word even as the fireplace roared when he shouted out to be Floo'd to the Manor. She waited until the roar died down and she'd taken a long draw on her tea before opening her eyes to meet her mother's calculating gaze.


	17. Chapter 16

"Mum," Hermione began in warning when she spotted her mother's expression.

"I didn't say a word," Wendy Granger protested, holding up her hands in self-defence, though a smile pulled at one corner of her mouth.

"Your face did," Hermione replied, huffing as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Wendy smiled innocently and took a sip of her tea before crossing to the dining table and lowering herself into the seat. Hermione didn't like the look of the expression she wore, clearly intending that they have a discussion about what had just transpired here in the kitchen, in addition to what she'd interrupted in the bedroom.

"So," Wendy said when Hermione sighed tiredly and lowered herself into the seat opposite her mother. "That was Draco, then?"

Hermione nodded wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to fend off the headache beginning to form behind her eyes.

"He's… very handsome," Wendy said, sounding rather like she couldn't believe it. "Everything you've said about him over the years made me wonder if he must just be rather poorly endowed…wait! Not endowed… that was a poor choice of words, wasn't it? I only meant that you made it sound like he was so rotten on the inside that he must surely be unpleasant on the outside, too."

"I… mother!" Hermione said, scandalised. "We will  _not_  be discussing Draco's Malfoy's endowment."

Wendy's cheeks went crimson, though she giggled like a schoolgirl and Hermione put her face in her hands, shaking her head at the woman who'd obviously chosen that word in order to properly rattle her. Her mother had been in the habit of doing so whenever she wanted information out of Hermione since she was just a girl. Hermione had learned early on that her mother had the ability to embarrass the truth right out of her just to make her stop saying things that made her blush.

"I'm just saying he's very fit, darling. I got a bit of an eyeful when he sat up in bed with no shirt on, and that jumper of his wasn't zipped."

"The zipper is broken," Hermione said, blushing.

"Just the same, I certainly wasn't complaining about the view," Wendy smiled enigmatically before taking another sip of her tea.

"You did hear the part where we bickered like cats and dogs before he left to fend off his father's attempts to murder his current wife and to ensure Lucius isn't going to attempt to have Aurey and I killed too, yeah?"

"That's his father, not him," Wendy pointed out. " _He_  left with the intent t confront his father, looking like he feared the very thought. And he left his son in your care. Meaning he'll have to return."

Hermione sighed, realising she should have known that her mother would see it that way. The woman couldn't just take no for an answer.

"And besides," Wendy went on, sipping some more of her tea. "I don't think we really need to discuss what I walked in on upstairs, do we, darling? Because from what I saw that man was kissing your like he couldn't get enough, and he had his hand down your knickers."

"Mum!" Hermione protested, scandalized.

"Oh, come now, darling. Let's not pretend we're not both adults, yes? After all, you've already given me one grandson, and had I not interrupted up there, you might very well be on your way to giving me a second."

"Mum!" Hermione gasped, her eyes widening and her cheeks flushing crimson. "I wasn't…. I mean, we weren't… I… you're impossible!"

Wendy raised her eyebrows and looked rather like Hermione's stammering had amused her immensely.

"You fancy him, don't you?"

"I… No! Of course not! He's my colleague, Mum. He's a co-worker, and yes, alright, he's the father of my son, but he's still a git. And he's still married. And I don't fancy him because he's a git."

"You called him a git twice," Wendy pointed out helpfully.

"Well… because he's an enormous git, warranting two mentions of that fact," Hermione seethed.

"Darling, when are you going to realise that he's the only man for you?"

"I… excuse me?" Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Don't give me that look, Hermione. You and that man  _obviously_  have an insane amount of chemistry. I haven't seen that much spark in a room in a long time. And he's handsome. And I believe you've mentioned that he's rich, yes? What possible downside could there be to the two of you becoming an item?"

"Other than his father's attempted assassination?" Hermione asked.

"Well, obviously," Wendy nodded. "Look, sweetheart, I've heard all of your arguments a million times for why it wouldn't have worked and how it'd have been awful and how he's married and blah, blah, blah. Do you know what I heard today?"

Hermione closed her eyes, already knowing what she was going to say.

"I heard that man say he'd have made himself at home in your life five years ago if you'd just told him about Aurelian," Wendy pointed out. "If that's not a sign that the man feels something for you, darling, then I don't know what is."

"You're only looking at this from the point of view that let's you see what you want to see, Mum," Hermione protested. "Yes, if I'd told him, we might very well have figured something out and even gotten married, but we'd have been miserable. Can't you see that? The man he is now is very far removed from who he was five years ago. If I'd told him about Aurey five years ago, he'd have resented me, and we'd have fought constantly. He says he'd have made it work  _now_ , but he wouldn't have five years ago. He'd have given me a sack of gold to handle the problem and have an abortion, and would've belittled, demeaned, mocked and bullied me when I said no."

Wendy sighed, looking frustrated for a moment.

"What about now, sweetheart?" Wendy asked after a long moment of silence stretched between them.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.

"I mean, we can't go back to five years ago, but he obviously knows now that he's Aurelian's father, and he obviously isn't happy with you for keeping it from him. He's getting a divorce, yes? His wife cheated and is pregnant to someone else, and so soon he'll be single. And the two of you already share a child. One he obviously wants to get to know better. So, what are you going to do? Do you really mean to keep pushing him away and trying to hide this? Or are you going to give it a chance?"

"Mum, he's not a nice person," Hermione protested. "He's…"

"Cold, and cruel, and stand-offish, and infuriating," Wendy listed. "Yes, dear. So you've said. Many times. Do you know that half the things you say to me feature that man? Do you have any idea how it amuses me when you rant about the latest foolhardy thing he did, or how he taunted you, or the things you fought about? Every time I see you, you tell me about him."

"Because we work together and he drives me mad," Hermione pointed out, frowning even more.

"Oh, darling," Wendy sighed. "How did your father and I raise such a smart girl to be so out of touch from her feelings?"

"I'm not…."

"You can't even see what's right in front of you, love. That man is the father of your son. He's getting a divorce. He slept in your bed last night, and even as angry as I do not doubt he must surely be that you kept his eldest son a secret from him for five years, he was sticking his hand down your knickers and kissing you like he loved you. He rushed off to intercede and protect you should his father attempt something heinous, and if what you've told me in the past is true, he's not someone who frequently challenges his father's ideas or directives. But he's gone to challenge them for your sake. Can't you see that? Can't you see that, twisted up and confused as I'm sure it must be, he cares for you? Can't you see he feels things for you? Deeply, I'd say. And you feel things for him, too. You were kissing him up there, and you rant about it in your frustration whenever he gets injured at work. I know you, darling. You don't rant like that if you don't care. You just roll your eyes, call someone a fool, and pretend they don't exist."

"I don't fancy him," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Mmmhmmm," her mother hummed sceptically. "And I've never eaten ice-cream."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, knowing ice-cream was her mother's go-to cheat-day snack.

"I don't," Hermione protested.

"The only reason you're not head over heels for that man is because you've spent so long telling yourself that you're not allowed to be. Narcissa drummed it into your head that you and Draco could never be anything, and now you automatically push aside anything your feel for Draco that isn't frustration because of it. If I ever meet the woman, I might smack her for putting both of our children through this and for robbing my grandson of a father for the first five years of his life."

Right at that moment, the click of a high-heeled shoes sounded on the kitchen floor and Hermione looked over to lay eyes on Narcissa Malfoy where she stood dusting off her robes after a recent turn through the Floo.

"Oh," Wendy said, frowning a little at the intruder, never having officially met Narcissa before.

"Mother, this is Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione made the introduction, not exactly surprised to see the other witch. "Narcissa, this is my mother, Wendy. I wasn't expecting you quite so soon."

Narcissa eyed Wendy for a long moment before finally sticking out her hand for the other woman to shake.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Narcissa said crisply. "If you must smack me, as you say, do it now."

"I… erm… No, that won't be necessary," Wendy muttered, blushing.

"It's no more than I deserve," Narcissa said. "You're right. It was my own prejudice, and my own short-sightedness that has caused all this trouble after all. Perhaps our children could have been happy these past five years, rather than suffering as they have. It would certainly have saved this mess with my daughter in law."

Hermione gaped and the woman with her mouth hanging open like she was a fish out of water and she wondered if it was possible to faint from the sheer shock of hearing Narcissa Malfoy admit that she'd been wrong about anything.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Father," Draco Malfoy greeted his father after he'd had time to shower and shave, and pull himself together a little following the rough few days he'd endured.

Lucius Malfoy looked up from the morning paper, peering at him over the rim of his newspaper.

"Draco?" Lucius said, smiling a little in greeting and beckoning him into the office before folding the newspaper and setting it to one side. "How are you?"

Draco heaved a heavy sigh, wondering if it was too early to start drinking.

"You've heard, then?" he confirmed.

"About Astoria? I have. Unfortunate," Lucius said. "Your mother tells me you are opposed to having me handle the problem she has become?"

"I… we can't just kill her, Father," Draco said, entering the office and dropping down into the seat across from his father's desk. He ran an exasperated hand through his hair.

"I assure you, we can," Lucius disagreed.

"She's Scorpius's mother, Dad," Draco said. "I'm not about to rob my son of his mother just because we both fucked up. I never should've married her in the first place."

"Perhaps, but you did. You can't take it back. And she is carrying another man's child, Draco. What will you do? Accept your son having a half-brother? Carry the shame of having the entire wizarding world know that you couldn't satisfy your wife and so she went looking for it elsewhere?"

Draco winced at the blunt and cruel words, knowing his father wanted to push him to anger.

"I  _didn't_  satisfy her, Father," he replied evenly. "She went looking for it from Adrian for a reason. I don't give a fuck about the woman, and it took this bollocks to make me realise it."

"If you don't care for her, allow me to remove her from existence," Lucius said seriously.

"No," Draco growled. "It's not her fault we rushed into being married far too young. It's not her fault I had no interest in her."

"She knows too much, Draco!" Lucius hissed, his eyes flashing.

"She knows nothing," Draco rolled his eyes. "You know she doesn't. She's a prissy air-head. She's never shown any interest in any of the businesses we run."

"It's not her I'm worried about," Lucius snapped. "If this goes to trial, we'll be crucified. They'll dig into our financials and  _that_  would be a very bad thing."

"We both know you keep the offshore vaults under an alias, Father," Draco argued. "They'll never find the illegally acquired funds."

"I'd rather not give them the chance," Lucius said.

"What do you think they'll do when it comes to light that Astoria is pregnant to another man and is suddenly killed?" Draco snarled. "When they finish looking at me, their next suspect will be you and you know it."

"I won't get caught. Malfoys never get caught," Lucius assured him.

"I'd rather not risk it. Let me just…. Pay her to go the fuck away. She'll go quietly. She's never loved me. You know that," Draco said, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily.

"You think she will just quietly walk away from all the prestige of our name, and all of our money, and from Scorpius? She might be a little wretch, but she will not walk away from her son, Draco."

"I think she will," Draco disagreed. "If I make it clear what will befall her should she make a fuss, she'll let him go. She doesn't care that much for him, either. She loves him, in her way, but not so much as to risk her life over. She resents him because he represents everything we should have, but don't. I know how I was when she was pregnant with him. She resents Scorpius because his birth ceased that affection."

"You truly think she'll go quietly? That she won't demand partial custody?" Lucius asked.

"She might do. She  _is_  his mother, after all. It's her right. Keeping a child from someone is unacceptable if they had a hand in that child's conception," Draco replied evenly, wondering if his father even knew about Aurelian and Granger yet.

He mustn't, because no knowing flash crossed his face and Granger was still alive. She was right, if Lucius learned that Draco had sired a half-blood with a mudblood, he'd never let it go. And having learned of his first-born's existence just yesterday, the raw feeling of knowing what he'd missed out on was enough that he would tolerate allowing Astoria partial custody of Scorpius if she would just go away without making a fuss.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers, looking speculative in a way that Draco didn't like. He knew that look. His mother had been keeping Aurelian's existence from both of them, and it seemed she was still keeping it from Lucius. But Lucius was no fool, he knew something else was going on, and Draco's bitter words had just given him a large clue.

Fuck!

"Very well, Draco," Lucius practically purred and the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood on end. "Speak with her and come to some arrangement. Have Horatio draw up a divorce contract and partial custody contract and get her to sign them. If she doesn't go quietly, or she challenges the ordinance in any way, then I will be forced to step in and handle the problem. Is that clear? This mess will  _not_  be splashed across the front page of the newspaper. I will kill the little bitch before I let that happen."

"Father, we're Malfoys and this is a big deal. They're going to report on it," Draco sighed.

"Beyond an announcement of the divorce, and a string f speculative stories as to the reason for the split, this will go by quietly, Draco. If there is even a hint of a trial, she's dead."

"That would only draw more attention."

"Draco, the woman is deathly ill in a hospital bed. Her death will be ruled a tragedy and nothing more," Lucius promised quietly. "I'll give you a week to handle this your way, before I step in."

"A week isn't long enough. No contract will be binding if she's out of her head with delirium thanks to her illness," Draco huffed.

"She is coherent enough to make the decision. Have Horatio witness it, if need be," Lucius shrugged.

Draco sighed out a heavy breath, frowning fiercely at his father before he rose to his feet. Fine. He would handle it quickly and quietly, and then she'd be out of his hair. It was best, anyway. Less time for her to find out about Granger and Aurelian.

Crossing back to the door, Draco made to leave before his father called him back.

"And Draco?" Lucius said softly.

Draco looked over his shoulder, knowing from the guarded expression on his father's face that despite how cruel and blunt he'd been about all of this, he truly was concerned for Draco's wellbeing.

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked solemnly.

" _If_  it comes to light, for any reason, that there are… complications… that have led to this divorce. Any complications at all, I will handle those  _complications_  in the same way I will handle your wife if she makes a fuss."

Draco's stomach twisted, his heart clenching in fear and he narrowed his eyes a little.

"What complications could there be, Father?" Draco asked in a low voice, anger simmering in his gut that his father would dare threaten his son, though Draco doubted he knew about his second grandson, just yet.

"A certain curly-haired, pompous little mudblood, would be my guess," Lucius drawled quietly. "I'm no fool, Draco. I overheard some of your discussion with your mother. I know very well where Scorpius currently is and where he's been spending some of his time, lately. Where  _you_  have been spending some of your time, too."

Draco paled a little.

"Granger, Father?" Draco confirmed, pushing as much inquisitiveness into his tone as he could muster.

"You had better not be entertaining thoughts of replacing your wife with that mudblood, Draco," Lucius warned. "I told you when you were sixteen that she would never be an acceptable match for you, son. This disastrous marriage between you and Greengrass has not altered that fact."

"You would prefer to see me miserable than to allow me to see someone who might make me happy?" Draco demanded.

"I would kill her for the same reason I might still kill your wife, Draco," Lucius replied coldly. "Scorpius needs no half-siblings or step-siblings interfering with his claim to the Malfoy fortune when he is grown. If you wish to remarry, find a woman who doesn't already have a brat swinging from her legs."

"And if that brat was  _also_  my son with just as much claim to the Malfoy fortune?" Draco asked before he could think better of it, losing his temper at his father's threat.

Lucius's mouth pulled into a frown and his brows pulled down, his eyes hardening until he wore an angry scowl.

"He had better not be, Draco," Lucius warned, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Draco's left eye twitched before he jerked a single, sharp nod and stalked away down the hall, his fists clenched and his stomach turning over with worry that his father might attempt to assassinate his son.


	18. Chapter 17

Astoria Malfoy blinked her eyes open when the unbearable feel of someone's heavy gaze prickled at her psyche, wrenching her from her state of semi-doziness and dragging her back to wretched land of the living. Her stomach turned over when she blinked the sleep from her eyes to see an imposing figure looming at the end of her bed. Fear paralysed her limbs and her heart began to pound as she traced her gaze over the wizard clad in black that stood with his arms folded, his eyes fixed upon her face and a heavy frown furrowing his otherwise handsome visage.

The fact that the wizard happened to be her husband was of little comfort to the suddenly terrified witch. The quickened pace of her heart was captured by the monitoring charms recording her vital signs to ensure she would be in no danger of dying there in that horribly uncomfortable hospital bed and Astoria Malfoy would've blushed to be caught in such a state were it not for the utter terror pounding through her skull.

"Draco?" She squeaked, clutching at the sheets when it occurred to her that for the first time in their entire marriage, he was seeing her look less than attractive and very far from being put together.

He tipped his head ever so slightly to one side, looking at her as though he was truly seeing her for the first time. He looked like he didn't know what make of her. Worse, he looked at her like he had no clue who she was.

Astoria squirmed under the directness of his intense gaze, never having figured out how he managed to intimidate her quite so much without saying a single word. She hated the fact that she felt distinctly ugly and horrible looking. She knew she'd slept terribly enough that she looked like someone had blackened both of her eyes. She knew she was pale, and sweaty, and trying not to throw up as she sat there staring at the man she'd married. The man her father had ordered her to marry. The man she'd never particularly wanted to marry, aside from wanting the prestige of the Malfoy name and access to the vast Malfoy fortune.

And now she would die for it. What a fool she had been.

"Hello, Astoria," Draco replied, his voice low and even. Perfectly controlled. Just like he always was. She hated him a little for that.

Astoria traced his expression with her eyes and she  _knew_  that he knew. He knew she'd been having an affair. He  _knew_  the baby growing in her womb wasn't his.

"You came," she said eventually when she couldn't bear the silence for another minute more.

Merlin, but he made an art of uncomfortable silences, her husband.

"Did you imagine I wouldn't?" He asked, looking curious. "Or did you just  _hope_  I wouldn't?"

Astoria's cheeks turned pink, and she hated that he could always see right through her.

"Hoped," he murmured, watching her in that way of his that made her feel like she was some fascinating magical creature he was studying under glass. It wasn't a question. Clearly, he could see from her expression that she'd hoped he wouldn't come. She hadn't wanted to do this here. She was so tired of fighting with him. She was so tired of lying there waiting for someone to come and kill her for the affair.

"Have you been here long?" She asked, hating herself for making small talk but not knowing what else to say in the face of his assessment.

"About half an hour," he said, and Astoria hated that she couldn't figure out if he was angry with her and intending to strangle her, or if he was just disappointed. She'd always hated his habit of hiding his emotions behind that blank expression that looked both intimidating and bored at the same time. She'd hated it even when they'd just been foolish children and she hated it all the more as his wife.

Why couldn't he ever just say what he meant and express his emotions in a way that meant other people could figure out what he wanted from the world?

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked warily, noting the way he didn't move, just continued to stand there with his arms folded over his chest.

"You looked peaceful," he replied, surprising her.

"I think you might have an inaccurate perception of how I look when I'm sleeping peacefully," Astoria said before she could think better of it.

One corner of his mouth twitched up just the faintest bit and Astoria frowned at him. She'd never seen him give her even the faintest of crooked smiles before, but that was exactly the expression he wore right then.

"Actually, I think the way you look when you're sleeping peacefully is one of the expressions on your face that I know most intimately, Tori," he said, and Astoria blinked, her eyes prickling at the use of the nickname she couldn't remember him using for her since they'd been stupid teenagers, back before her father had ever set his beady eye on the Malfoy fortune. Back when she'd just been the annoying kid sister to Daphne, who'd played with Draco and his friends at the Manor during the stuffy balls and things Mother insisted on attending.

"Is that so?" she asked, her throat tight with emotion as she tried to figure him out.

Merlin, it felt like she'd spent a lifetime trying to figure him out.

He nodded, still smiling ever so crookedly.

"I watch you when you're sleeping, sometimes," he confessed quietly. "I have done since we were married."

Astoria frowned at him, wondering if this was the beginning of one of his practical jokes.

"When?" she asked. "Why?"

He shifted his weight slightly, tipping his head back the other way, watching her curiously.

"You move a lot in your sleep," he told her. "Almost every night that you and I have shared a bed, you've chased me across the mattress."

Astoria blinked slowly, frowning at him. She hadn't known that. She often woke up on the other side of the bed, it was true, but she hadn't known it was the result of chasing him across the bed.

"You fuss most of the night," he went on. "Keeps me awake when you fuss and try to snuggle so close to steal all my warmth. Sometimes, if I stay still, you stop fussing."

"I annoy you even in sleep, then?" Astoria surmised, feeling a terrible sense of dread beginning to churn in her gut the longer he stared at her.

Draco smirked.

"Yes," he confessed, and Astoria hated the prickle of hurt that curled through her at the admission, though she supposed that she deserved it.

"Did you ever love me?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

Draco frowned at her words, his brow furrowing.

"No," he admitted. "But you knew that."

Astoria supposed it was true.

"You never loved me, either," he said. "You never stopped loving Pucey."

Astoria winced, closing her eyes at the sound of the truth coming out of his mouth. She supposed this was it, then.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked in a whisper, her hands curling protectively around the faintest bulge of the baby growing inside her womb.

Draco's laugh, when it came, was hollow.

It made something inside of hr squirm, and Astoria suspected that though he wasn't showing it, she'd hurt him with her affair. She might seem entirely oblivious, and she might've been conducting an affair with an old boyfriend, but Astoria Malfoy wasn't stupid. She knew that for all his facades, Draco Malfoy often felt things much more deeply than he ever let on.

"I thought about it," he confessed in a whisper. "Briefly. It's my Father's intent to have you killed… if you don't cooperate."

Astoria opened her eyes to stare at him.

"Cooperate?" she asked, not daring to trust a hope.

Draco nodded slowly.

"Right now, I'm all that is standing between you and his wrath, Astoria," Draco said in a low voice. "And I think you should know that it boils my blood to have to do it, knowing that you've been fucking that useless twat behind my back. That his bastard spawn is festering inside of you right now."

Astoria's eyes filled with tears and she tried futilely to blink them away.

"As such," Draco went on, his voice tight. "I'm going to need you to agree to a few things, Astoria."

Astoria nodded slowly. "Such as?"

She almost jumped out of bed when he suddenly uncrossed his arms and rounded the end of the bed, moving right up beside her. She watched him warily, wondering if he was going to inject some kind of poison into the medicine line pumping into her arm to keep her hydrated and medicated. She wondered if he might just hit her with the Killing curse and be done with it all.

The last thing she expected was for him to climb up on the narrow hospital bed beside her and throw his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until they were sitting side by side. Astoria turned her head to look at him, frowning.

"What are you doing?" she asked, confused.

"You're my wife, Tori," he said quietly. "For a little while longer, at least."

Astoria gulped.

"Until you kill me?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Astoria," he said.

"Then what are you going to do?"

He tipped his head to meet her gaze, surprising her when he reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with more tenderness in that touch than she suspected he'd shown her since she'd been pregnant with Scorpius.

"I'm going to divorce you," he told her in a way that was almost gentle.

"You… but I…"

"You cheated on me. Yes," he nodded. "And you're pregnant to another man. Yes. I know. I know everything, Tori."

"And you just want to divorce me?" Astoria asked, frowning. "You don't want to… hurt me?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you, Astoria."

"But… divorce?" she frowned. "No Malfoy has ever divorced."

"I know," he nodded. "But it's what I want. You and I never should have married, and while I'm grateful that doing so brought us Scorpius, we both know this isn't working. It hasn't been working."

"So, we just divorce?" she frowned. "We're  _Malfoys_ , Draco! You think the wizarding world is just going to let us… part amicably?"

"The wizarding world can mind its business," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "There are some hard facts that you need to face. My father  _will_  have you killed if you don't go quietly. You're going to sign the papers Horatio will have drawn up, and you're going to go away, Tori. Far away where my Father can't reach you."

"And what? You just… keep Scorpius and I get nothing?" she demanded. "I'm pregnant, Draco! Where in Merlin's name am I going to go?"

"I'm not going to keep you from seeing Scorpius," he said. "I'm going to give you enough money for you and the kid in there to live comfortably for the rest of your lives. I don't care where you go. Go to the States. The continent. It doesn't matter where, as long as you're far from Father's mind, yeah?"

Astoria frowned at him.

"I don't understand," she said softly. "I… the Draco Malfoy I know would never tolerate having his wife cheat on him. He certainly wouldn't just give her money and tell her to go away. What's going on with you?"

Draco sighed, surprising her all the more when he ran his fingers through her loose long hair in a way that might've been affectionate if she didn't think he saved what little tolerance he had for affection to shower upon their son.

"If I'd found out about all this last week, I'd have looked the other way while my father killed you, Astoria," he confessed softly. "I'd have taken our son and told him something bad befell you when he got old enough to ask questions about what happened to his mother."

Astoria furrowed her brow, caught somewhere between being terrified and indignant.

"And now?" she asked. "Now you're just going to pack me off on my way and never think of me again? Why? What could possibly have happened to change your mind?"

Draco sighed.

"That's not important right now," he said, and Astoria narrowed her eyes at her husband, suspicion festering in her gut.

"What's the matter, Draco?" She asked sourly. "You've gone soft in your old age? Or am I not the only one cheating in this little mess of a marriage? You know that if you cheat, I get half the Malfoy fortune."

Draco tightened his grip around her shoulders, lowering his mouth to her ear.

"I've never even looked twice at another woman for the entire time you and I have been amicably married," he warned in a low, dangerous tone. "And I can see those cogs turning in your head, thinking that just about anyone would be willingly to claim I've fucked them for the right price. But you're not hearing me, Greengrass. If you don't take this deal, you and Pucey's fucking spawn will be dead within the week. You got it?"

"You're going to blackmail me into this?" she asked. "Why not just kill me?"

"Because you're the mother of my fucking son, Tori! You think I want to look at Scorpius every day, knowing that one day soon, he's going to ask me where his Mum is? You think I want to have to lie to him and say you died in childbirth, trying to bring his little brother into the world, only to lose him too? Because that's what I'll have to do if you don't sign the papers, divorce me, and disappear beyond my father's reach."

"There's nowhere beyond Lucius's reach!" Astoria hissed angrily. "So, tell me why you care, Draco. You've admitted that you don't love me. And we both know it would scarcely be the hardest lie you'll ever have to tell Scorpius. Why, this week, do you care if I live or die? Why do you care if I see our son again?"

"Because no one deserves to be kept away from their own child," he said hotly. "Just… agree, Tori. You want to run off with Pucey into the sunset and have his bloody kid, and I've got things I want to do that involve keeping you alive, and keeping my son alive, and making sure my father doesn't go back to prison. When Horatio comes by tomorrow with the papers, I need you to sign them without making a fuss."

Astoria didn't like it, turning her head to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

"And if I don't?" she asked.

Draco sighed, whatever spark of life she'd coaxed from him by angering him dimming once more, leaving her with the same unfeeling, emotionless façade he always projected. She flinched when he reached up, carding his fingers through her loose and somewhat stringy blonde hair before he tipped her head up just a little.

He lowered his lips toward hers, brushing his mouth carefully over hers and Astoria loathed the fact that even now, even whilst angrily discussing their impending divorce, he couldn't summon an ounce of real emotion for her. She hated herself all the more for kissing him back, her eyes sliding closed as she took advantage of the moment to convince herself that maybe he could've loved her in another life.

When they parted, he laid his forehead against hers.

"If you don't sign them within the week, your fate will be taken out of my hands, Tori," he murmured, neither of them noticing that through the little window in the hospital door, a plucky photographer for the  _Daily Prophet_ was capturing a snapshot of the intimate moment.

"If you don't sign them, your life, and your future with this kid growing inside you that isn't even mine," he curled his hand gently over the faint baby bulge ruining her perfect figure. "All of it. Everything will be forfeit."

Astoria hated herself for the tears than ran down her face at the hollow truth in his emotionless tone.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Deep in the bowels of Malfoy Manor, deep beneath the dungeons everyone knew about, deeper even than the vaults and the cellars, right down deep where no one ever dared venture, a lonely soul tipped his head at the sound of footsteps striking the cold stone floor.

Footsteps were new. The elves who fed him never usually came striding down the corridor. They popped in and out, staying only long enough to deliver his food, collect his crockery, and empty his chamber pot. The brightness of the light shining from the tip of a wizard's wand pained his sensitive eyes after so many years spent glaring into the blackness of the deepest Malfoy dungeons.

"Still alive, then?" Lucius Malfoy drawled in that cold, emotionless tone of his that managed to sneer and taunt even the most dejectedly tormented of souls.

"Like you care?" he asked, his voice scratchy with lack of use.

"I do, actually," Lucius said, surprising him. "I have a little proposition for you."

"Finally going to kill me?" he asked, snorting just a little, having had that carrot dangled one too many times to fall for it again now.

"I'm going to release you, actually," Lucius said causally.

"That right?" he grunted, narrowing his eyes hatefully on the man, trying to see beyond the sting in his retinas from the brightness of the light.

"Yes. You're going to make an Unbreakable Vow to complete a task for me. And when it's done, you can have your freedom," Lucius informed him.

"Oh? And what does the rich and powerful Lucius Malfoy need from someone like me?" the soul wanted to know, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"I need you to expunge my daughter-in-law from this existence. Her and the bastard festering in her womb," Lucius hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. "And I need you to do so in a way that cane never be traced back to me or mine."

"Girl's having an affair, eh? And little Draco's not man enough to kill her himself."

"He wants to  _divorce_  the bitch," Lucius spat, looking utterly disgusted. "After she cheated on him. After she let herself fall pregnant to some other useless sod."

"And that wouldn't be the Malfoy way," the lost soul of the Malfoy dungeons laughed, low and cruel-edged.

"When you have dealt with the witch, you will hunt down her lover and ensure he will cause us no problems, either," Lucius went on. "And when that is done, you will disappear. You will never darken my doorstep again."

"Ain't been near your bloody doorstep in… how long have I even been here?" he asked, frowning, having lost count of the days long ago when he ran out of room on the walls to count his sleeps, and hadn't seen the sun in month upon months.

"A little over seven years," Lucius informed him. "Few believe you are still alive. You will, essentially, be safe to go about life as you must without the Aurors searching for you, or the need to side-eye everyone you meet, lest they recognise you."

"Well, ain't you fuckin' kind," he drawled in response.

"Do we have an accord?" Lucius demanded.

The lost soul who had spent a little over seven years rotting in the dungeon where he hadn't been able to see the sky, or feel the wind on his face, slowly pulled himself to his feet. The chains around his ankles clanked as they dragged over the cold stone floor, and the festering wounds marring his flesh that never would heal no matter how he adjusted the cuffs began to ooze pus and blood once more.

"You going to heal me, too?" he asked in a low voice. "Going to give me more than rags to wear? Money to get by on? A wand?"

"I'll give you enough to do the job I require of you," Lucius drawled, eyeing him with disgust before flicking his wand to remove the shackles and heal what little he could without the assistance of potions.

"What would you have me do to the daughter-in-law, her unborn spawn, and her lover, eh Malfoy?"

"Make sure they can't cause us any trouble. Kill them if you like. As long as no one from the Ministry looks in our direction, and we don't have to face the publicity of a divorce trial, I don't care what becomes of them," Lucius waved his hand at the words, flicking the details away.

Typical Malfoy, he supposed. The less he knew of the crimes being committed, the more he could omit under questioning. And if his daughter-in-law and her lover went missing, Malfoy would be questioned. But that wasn't his problem.

"I'll… expunge them from your life if you heal me, clothe me, arm me, pay me, and set me free," he agreed after a long moment of deliberation.

"You will never return to the Manor," Lucius laid down some conditions. "You will never reveal the time you have spent here. You will never seek out my blood in retribution."

Curling his lips away from his teeth, he nodded just once, a sharp jerk of his head in agreement with the stipulations, knowing he would need to be cunning to work a way around the terms to better exact his revenge.

Sticking his filthy hand through the bars of his cage, he waited for Malfoy to shake it, laughing bitterly when the pompous bastard used scouring charms to cleanse his flesh before deigning to grasp his hand tightly in agreement.


	19. Chapter 18

On Monday morning the story broke in the  _Daily Prophet_ , and Hermione eyed it over her morning coffee in her office. Her entire weekend had been spent dealing with her mother and Narcissa Malfoy, before having to deal with Draco when he returned from a discussion with his father and then with his wife, and after all of that, she'd had to go and see Harry and Ginny at Harry's place when they'd checked Ginny out of hospital against medical recommendation. She'd had to come back to work just to get a bit of peace and quiet!

The story was splashed across the front page, several more pregnant witches having been afflicted since the initial outbreak. Some plucky photographer had caught images of Harry doting on Ginny in her sick-bed, while another had caught a snapshot of Draco and Astoria Malfoy looking anything  _but_  like they were about to be divorced.

Hermione eyed the story coolly, not overly interested in whatever spin the reporters had put on the tale, but finding her attention unwillingly held by the sight Draco and Astoria. He sat beside her in her hospital bed, his arm looped comfortingly around her shoulders. They looked at one another in the photo, Draco lowering his forehead to rest against Astoria's before he kissed his wife on the lips.

Hermione  _hated_  that she felt a flare of jealousy at the sight. No matter what he'd said over the weekend after learning of Aurelian's paternity, and no matter that he'd slept in her bed, and that he'd snogged her and tried to stick his hand into her knickers, Hermione  _knew_  that the wizard wasn't for her. She knew it and she shouldn't be sitting and stewing over a picture of a married man kissing his wife on her sick bed, but she was, and she despised herself for that.

Sipping her coffee, Hermione traced her eyes over the way he leaned into her, noting idly that the story spoke of how love and support was needed at this trying time, and how sweet it was to see such power couples rallying together. Merlin, the photograph alone would certainly cover Draco's arse should Astoria turn up dead in short order, and Hermione would've assumed that was his angle had she not heard his profess so passionately that no one would be murdering his wife over her infidelity.

Maybe Lucius or Narcissa had sent to reporter. They wanted an alibi on hand to ensure Draco would seem a grieving widower should Astoria's illness claim her. She knew the way Narcissa, in particular, tended to think and this was just the kind of thing that had her sticky fingerprints all over it. Perhaps she didn't trust her husband not to go behind Draco's back and go against his wishes to have Astoria killed. Knowing the pair of them, they wouldn't trust a contract to keep the other witch quiet and would want this handled swiftly and in such a way that Draco wouldn't be framed.

Hermione took another sip of her coffee before shoving the paper away, disgusted with herself for being jealous, and disgusted with Narcissa and Lucius for thinking they knew better than their adult son. Before she could ponder it further, her office door was flung open and Draco Malfoy stalked inside, souring Hermione's mood all the more.

He narrowed his eyes on the newspaper sitting on her desk before tracing his eyes over her face.

"You've been avoiding me," he accused when he'd shut the door to her office, locking it and warding it to ensure they wouldn't be overheard.

"I've been at home, dealing with my mother and your mother, and my son, and your son, and Harry's godson, and then visiting with Ginny and trying to figure out what the hell this illness is, Malfoy," Hermione retorted. "I'm sure it will come as a shock to you, but the entire universe doesn't revolve around you. Some of us have more to do than laying trails to alibis of happy marriage in the event that their spouse should die."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes on her, clearly not having expected her attitude.

"I had nothing to do with that shot," he argued, pointing at the paper. "And I'll have you know I was threatening he when this was taken."

"By kissing her?" Hermione scoffed. "Yes, very threatening, Malfoy. Merlin, if you consider a bit of snogging to be threatening, it's no wonder you get hurt in the field so often. What do you do? Try to snog the creatures I send you after?"

He recoiled at the venom in her tone, and at her suggestion.

"What's got your wand in a knot, witch? It's not your bloody wife who's cheating on you and it's not your bloody father plotting to have that wife killed. And it's not your bloody mother nagging you about making a fine  _new_ match just as soon as Astoria signs the bloody divorce contract."

"It is, actually," Hermione huffed.

"Your mother is nagging you to marry me the minute I'm divorced?" Draco demanded, his eyes widening.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "As is yours. I had  _three_  owls from Narcissa yesterday, listing a number of your 'good' qualities and how smart a match it would be, and how the bloody press would eat it up as some wild tale of romance and fluff. She drafted a bloody article!"

Draco groaned, crossing the office to sit in the chair across from her desk before putting his face in his hands.

"Yes, she's been doing the same thing to me. Merlin knows why. Last week she was on board to keep all this a secret from me."

"Last week she didn't know your wife was pregnant with another mans' child," Hermione sighed.

"That's not grounds for marriage between you and I!"

"She seems to think the two of us sharing a child is," Hermione replied.

Draco sighed against, running a hand through his hair before lifting his eyes.

"How is Aurelian?" he asked, looking genuinely interested in the welfare of his eldest son.

"He's fine," Hermione shrugged. "A bit tired, having had Teddy stay with us most of the weekend. He's with my mother, today."

Draco nodded. "This is a bloody nightmare," he informed her quietly. "How the fuck am I supposed to divorce her now when they've written an article of the power of love?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, rather thinking that it wasn't her problem.

"You could wait until she gets better," she suggested.

"I can't," Draco shook his head. "Father's given me a deadline. If Astoria doesn't sign the divorce contract and disappear by the end of the week, he means to have her killed."

"He'll try to have her killed, regardless of her willingness to sign, Draco," Hermione informed him coolly, in no mood to sugar coat the truth for him.

"All the more reason to rush this. But she can hardly leave the hospital when bound to a dripline to keep her healthy, let alone leave the country."

"Where do you mean to have her go?" she asked.

"The Americas," he shrugged. "She has relatives there. I'll be giving her enough to live on comfortably for the rest of her life if she just goes away. Her and Pucey's spawn."

Hermione nodded, not much interested.

"Why are you here?" she asked, cutting right to the chase.

"I work here," he informed her, narrowing his eyes.

"Here in my office, Malfoy," Hermione clarified. "The last thing either of us needs right now is the press getting wind of you spending time with a witch not your wife."

"Yeah, well, that's why I'm here," he grumbled. "My father  _might_  be suspicious that Aurelian is my son."

Hermione spat the mouthful of coffee she just taken.

"Excuse me?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes to slits. "After five bloody years, on the same weekend you learn he's your son, Lucius just  _happens_  to grow suspicious? What did you do? Waltz into his office and tell him you'd sired a half-blood? Are you  _trying_ to get Aurelian and I killed, Malfoy?"

"I lost my temper, alright?" Draco said hotly. "Father was spouting about how there had better not be complications that had led to my divorce, and how he'd heard Mother and I discussing her lies about Aurelian, and about Scorpius having been staying with you, and about me having been calling on you. He implied that entertaining notions of replacing Astoria with you would be unacceptable and that if I wish to remarry I should find someone without children, claiming Scorpius needed no step-siblings or half-siblings competing for his claim to the Malfoy fortune. I  _might_  have inquired as to his feelings on the matter being that Aurelian was my son, and as such, had as much right to the inheritance as Scorp."

Hermione stared at him aghast.

"This is why I never told you," she hissed at him, leaning across the desk and thinking very seriously about hexing him. "You can't just blurt something like that out to Lucius! He'll have us killed, Malfoy."

"Yes, he said as much," Draco sighed. "And so I'm here, warning you to be on your guard, and to expect him to come calling on you."

"If he comes within ten feet of me or Aurelian, I'll kill him myself," Hermione vowed coolly.

"He just needs some time to warm up to the idea, Granger," Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair and rumpling it further.

"Warm up to the idea?" Hermione scoffed. "You think Lucius Malfoy is ever going to warm up to the idea of you having fucked a mudblood? Of you siring a half-blood? Sullying the purity of the Malfoy bloodline? Are you actually that thick, Draco? He'll have us killed before any of this can come to light. Even the suggestion will have him organizing an assassin to handle the problem."

"He won't," Draco insisted. "He'll investigate, and he'll meet Aurey, and the little tyke will win him over as he's done with Mother, and with me, and it'll all be fine. Mother wouldn't be trying to talk me into marrying you if she didn't think Father would - eventually – allow it."

"He'll never allow it," Hermione shook her head. "And even if he did, who says I want that?"

Draco narrowed his eyes on her.

"You're sitting in here stewing over a picture of me snogging my wife, Granger," he reminded her. "Don't bother trying to deny it. We both know it's true. You've been thinking about the feel of my lips on yours and wishing your mother hadn't interrupted us the other morning before I could get my hand further into your knickers. I know you have."

"Obviously  _you_  have," Hermione retorted, stubbornly refusing to admit that she'd been thinking about it, too.

"You're bloody right, I have," he hissed, surprising her with the admission as he leaned forward, putting both hand on her desk and glaring g at her.

"Well… stop thinking about it," Hermione warned, narrowing her eyes on him. "The other morning was a mistake we won't be repeating."

"Really?" he demanded, looking sceptical. "I  _know_  you've been thinking about it as much as I have, Granger."

"I haven't," she denied. "Just… stop involving me in your family drama and keep your father away from me and my son, Malfoy."

He narrowed his eyes on her hatefully, curling his lip away from his teeth like he was an angry animal intent on biting her.

"My family drama will involve you until the day you die, Granger," he vowed coldly. "You're the mother of my firstborn son! That makes  _you_  my family."

"It doesn't," she replied stubbornly. "It makes Aurelian your family and it makes me the witch trying to hide beyond your clutches. Nothing good will ever come of anything between you and I, Malfoy."

"Oh, so Aurelian is nothing good, then?" he snarled.

"Nothing  _else_  good will ever come of this," Hermione corrected herself.

"You're so full of shit, Granger," Malfoy snapped, rising to his feet.

Hermione glared at him, standing as well.

"I'm not," she hissed. "What do you imagine this can come to? Snuggles and family nights like the other night? That will  _never_  happen, Draco. You father will see to that."

"My father can go fuck himself," Draco hissed in response before lunging across her desk and catching her around the back of the neck.

Hermione squeaked in protest he when dragged her within range before he planted his lips on hers, snogging her furiously, clearly determined to prove her wrong. She resisted, struggling in his hold until he bit her lower lip hard enough to sting before licking away the pain and coaxing her lips apart. She hated him a little bit when she couldn't resist kissing him back, her tongue sweeping the length of his and stars exploding behind her eyes.

A jolt of electricity shot through her and Hermione moaned into his mouth, fumbling against him as he rounded her desk and invaded her personal space until his body was pressed flush against hers. He swept everything off the desk, including the newspaper bearing the image of him snogging his wife, before lifting her up by her arse and setting her on the flat surface, knotting his hands in her hair and snogging her until she was dizzy.

Hermione found her legs curling around him of their own accord and she swallowed the groan he emitted when he ground himself against the junction of her thighs, his arousal making itself known. Her knickers grew damp at the thought of him being attracted to her and she knew she was in trouble when her hands found their way to the buttons on his shirt, making short work of them until she could smooth her hands over his chiselled torso. Gods, but she loved the feel of this man under her hands.

He kissed her harder, seeming positively desperate for more and Hermione melted against him, kissing him hungrily, hating herself for still being attracted to him – for ever having let herself shag him five years ago. She hated herself even more for listening to her gut and refusing to tell him about Aurey until this weekend. Merlin, she knew he was wrong about how they'd have handled it, but gods, if they could've been having angry hate sex for the past five years, Hermione was sure she'd have been happier.

"We can't do this," she muttered when he skidded her across the desk until she was perched on the edge of it, pushing her down to stretch out on her back across it, her legs still curled around his hips loosely.

"We can," he assured her, kissing her neck and making her crazy as he unbuttoned her blouse.

He pinned her hands to the desk above her head, holding both wrists in one of his large hands before finishing unbuttoning her shirt with the other. The jingle of his belt buckle followed and Hermione's eyes flew wide.

"Malfoy," she began, knowing she shouldn't shag him, no matter the desire pulsing through her head and the throb in her pussy, aching to be filled.

"Shhh, Granger," he muttered, kissing his way over her chest toward her left breast.

"We can't," she said helplessly, watching the way he lowered his trousers and his boxers far enough to free his cock.

It bobbed wildly for a moment, revelling in it's freedom even as his hand slid up the inside of her leg under the hem of her skirt.

"You're still married," she remined him though the words ended on a low moan when he pulled aside her knickers and burrowed two long fingers inside of her, finding her wet and needy.

"Fuck, you're wet," he muttered before closing his mouth over her nipple right through the lacy fabric of her bra.

"Gods, Malfoy," Hermione whispered breathlessly, arching under his hand, desperate for more friction.

"I'm going to have you, Granger," he warned her. "Right now. Right here on this bloody desk."

He lifted his eyes to hers, seeking permission, his fingers sawing in and out of her clenching core before he aligned himself at the junction of her thighs, poised to claim her.

Hermione couldn't only nod helplessly, mindless with pleasure and desperate to be touched. He didn't wait for her to change her mind, pulling his fingers free and pushing inside of her forcefully. Hermione winced at the sting before a low moan tore from her lips when he tunnelled deep inside of her, bottoming out and filling her to bursting.

"Sweet, fucking Merlin," he breathed against her neck, his eyes clenched closed as he froze, adjusting to the feel of being inside of her. "How could I fucking  _forget_?"

Hermione trembled, her wrists twisting in his hold, desperate to pull him down on top of her.

"Don't just tease, Malfoy," Hermione begged desperately, crazy for it, clenching her core, needing so much more.

Years of sexual tension fizzing between the two of them came to a head as he withdrew before slamming back in deep once more. Hermione tore her wrists from his grip, reaching for him and pulling him down until she could claim his lips for another searing kiss. He built to a fast rhythm, bucking into her like he couldn't bare to the be away from her for even the brief moment when he withdrew without fully leaving her.

"Fucking hell, Hermione," he muttered against her lips when the broke apart after several dizzying minutes.

Hermione moaned in response, arching into his thrusts, hungry for more.

"Oh, you're such a… fucking…  _bitch!"_  he growled as he drove into her deeper and harder until their flesh was slapping together. His grip was unforgiving on her hips as he slammed into her again and again. " _This_  is what you were depriving me of for the past five bloody years?"

Hermione blinked at him guiltily when he lifted his head far enough to meet her gaze, his expression accusatory and furious.

He growled in frustration when she offered no excuse before he claimed her lips again, working a hand between their bodies to torment her clit.

"Oh, god," Hermione whimpered against his lips, arching into him, so close now. "Gods, Malfoy… I'm gonna… I'm gonna…"

He kissed her again, swallowing her scream when the coils of pleasure inside of her snapped free. Snogging him wildly, Hermione's whole body trembled and shook under his, her pussy clenching tightly around him, milking him, making him groan and throwing off his rhythm before he drove in deep and held there as he lost control and let everything go.

"Fuck!" he cursed breathlessly, his eyes screwed shut as he came, his hips jerking erratically.

He rested against her when he was finished, his forehead pressing to her chest and Hermione didn't even think about it as she carded her fingers through his silky blond hair.

When she'd caught her breath, Hermione pushed him off her, watching him drop backward into her office chair, still breathing hard and eyeing her accusingly and like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"We shouldn't have done that," Hermione said quietly, sitting up slowly and pulling her shirt closed over her chest, beginning to button it up, once more.

He didn't disagree with her, still panting as he eyed her like he couldn't decide if he wanted to snog her all over again, or if he should get up and leave. When he didn't say anything, Hermione scooped her wand up off the end of the desk, pointing it at her stomach and casting a contraceptive charm. The last thing she needed was to get pregnant again while he was still married to someone else and while pregnant women were dropping like flies.

She caught the twitch of Malfoy's left eye as though he were annoyed about the charm and she glared at him, wondering if it was worth the fight to tell him that  _if_  she ever had another child, it most certainly would not be the result of a crescendo of sexual tension and hurt feelings.

"Fuck," he said again, seeming to recognise from her glare that she knew he'd been thinking unkind things that she would take measure to avoid falling pregnant again.

He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it all the more and making himself look very well ravished, indeed.

"So… that happened," he muttered finally, tracing his eyes over her like he didn't entirely know what to do.

Hermione didn't blame him. She didn't know if she wanted to screech at him about what a stupid mistake it was, or if she wanted to climb into his lap and fuck him all over again. Her whole body was thrumming with magic and contentedness and Hermione hated him for making her feel that way.

"That can't happen again," she warned him, eyeing him nervously. "You're still married and pregnant woman aren't safe right now, and your marriage and your life is complicated enough without throwing me even further into the mix. You're supposed to still be angry with me for keeping Aurey from you, not shagging me on my work desk."

"Oh, I'm still angry," Draco assured her coolly. "It was bad enough to think you'd deprived me of sweet family moments like the other night in bed with that book when you were reading to the kids. This? Keeping  _this_  from me, too? I don't know if I'll  _ever_  forgive you for that, Granger?"

"Well, go be mad about it somewhere else, could you?" she asked, prodding his knees with her toes. "There's enough secrets between us that the press would have a field day. The last thing we need is to have them seeing you leaving my office looking as well ravished as you currently do. Or worse, your father might very well be on his way here to ensure I'm not making a complication of myself."

"Too bloody late for that," Draco muttered, casting cleaning charms over both of them before tucking himself into his trousers once more. "You're already a complication, witch."

"So, stop making it worse," Hermione hissed. "Honestly, it's like you don't know when to leave well enough alone, Malfoy."

He narrowed his eyes on her.

"When my divorce is finalised," he threatened coolly. "You and I are going to have a very long discussion about this mess, Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, he shot suddenly to his feet, rounding her desk and walking away without another word. Emitting a sound of frustration when her office door slammed closed, once more, Hermione pressed her hands over her eyes and tried to calculate just how much whiskey she might need to imbibe to stop thinking about what they'd just done.


	20. Chapter 19

Wearing clothing that wasn't tattered and worn thin again felt strange. Clean skin made him feel like he'd be rubbed raw all over, even previously deadened nerve-ending feeling suddenly exposed. Holding a wand in his grip felt unnatural after so long without one. Breathing air that wasn't musty and stale was like an excursion in torture and he'd developed a cough as a result of the fresh oxygen he'd been filling his lungs with for over a week, now. Brushing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes, the recently released wizard contemplated again the best way to circumvent the Unbreakable Vow he'd been forced to make just to win his freedom.

Lucius Malfoy was a silver-tongued snake, and he knew how to word a contract to make it airtight. But Antonin Dolohov was a Curse Breaker and finding holes in the magic was what he'd spent his life practicing. He was used to peeling back the edges of a spell to dismantle it from within. Malfoy had been clever enough to give him a deadline, knowing time was of the essence to prevent a scandal, and knowing Antonin was desperately seeking a way to be free of the Vow that weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

It wasn't that he'd sworn to handle Astoria Malfoy in a way that would leave no evidence of her ever conceiving a child with anyone other than Draco, nor was it the contemplation of her murder that hung so heavily around his neck. He was no stranger at dealing out death and he'd made rather a name for himself for the skills he possessed in that capacity. No, the weight crippling him and tearing at his – admittedly damaged – psyche stemmed from the fact that Malfoy had held him captive in that fucking basement for nigh on seven years.

Alone in the dark but for the elf that stopped by every few days to replenish his food, vanish his mess, and ensure he hadn't died, he'd been alone for almost all of that time. It had begun as a means of escaping capture after the Dark Lord's demise. Lucius had offered him sanctuary, and Antonin had foolishly accepted.

A mistake.

The bastard had played him with all the craftiness of a piper, tricking him into the dungeons to keep Narcissa and Draco from spotting him and risking exposure. It had ended with him in chains, locked away where he couldn't turn on the traitors who'd played no small role in the Dark Lord's fall. Narcissa Malfoy was a silver snake and she'd looked the Dark Lord in the eye before lying through her pretty white teeth about Potter's supposed death.

She would pay for that.

Just as Lucius would pay for locking him up, the bitch would pay for what she'd done. No Unbreakable Vow would keep him from ending the existence of the witch and wizard who'd so thoroughly ruined what little was left of his life. Cursing under his breath as he moved through Diagon Alley, Antonin rubbed at his wrist idly. His body still ached from the cold and the wretched feel of shackles, and he didn't think he would ever truly be warm again. He'd felt that way since Azkaban, and it had only been compounded deep in the dungeons under Malfoy Manor.

He needed to plan his next move. Lucius had informed him that Astoria carried another man's spawn and needed to be killed. Whatever. The bitch meant nothing to him, and she was early enough into her pregnancy that her sprog was no more than a lump of bloody tissues leeching her life-force. He'd been reading the paper since his release, having been cleaned up and given whatever he needed to start a new life after committing one more murder. Well, two more, if you wanted to be contrary. He reckoned he knew the reason the pregnant witches were suffering so, but he wasn't about to go sharing.

He'd done some recognisance today. He'd spent more than an hour perusing the Alley with his nice new haircut and his fancy new robes, and aside from a few intrigued glances from the ladies, he hadn't been given a second look by anyone.

Maybe Lucius was right.

Maybe he would finally be a free man, once more.

All he had to do was kill one little trollop and then figure out how the hell to undo the blood magic so that he could rip the entire Malfoy family to shreds. Smirking to himself and making a mental note to stop by the hospital later and dispose of the gnat biting Lucius Malfoy's arse, Antonin rounded a corner and Disapparated to the motel where he'd been staying as he tried to put some semblance of a life back together.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco knew he was going to have to go and see the foolish witch in hospital tomorrow. After all, it was one thing to have given her a deadline on signing the divorce papers and getting out of the country. It was another to have her actually do so. She hadn't done it yet. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the ceiling as he laid in bed with his infant son sprawled across the bed beside him taking up the space Astoria used to claim.

The boy was deeply asleep, and Draco turned his head on the pillows, tracing his eyes over his son and wondering what he dreamed about. Certainly not the dreams that had been plaguing Draco of late.

In between nightmares about ex-Death Eaters rising from the dead and coming after his family, Draco frequently found himself in dreams filled with Hermione bloody Granger. Merlin, but he was turning into a bloody ponce. He knew all the reasons he and Granger would never have worked,  _could_  never have worked. His father had laid those out for him long ago when he'd gotten Draco drunk following his return from Azkaban to find Draco branded a Death Eater at just sixteen.

Out of his head, he'd confessed his… intrigue… with the little mudblood to his father and muttered drunkenly about how, even if she ever did one day overlook what a right bloody sod he'd been to her their entire acquaintance, she certainly wouldn't look twice at him when he had an ugly black skull tattooed on his arm. Draco could still hear his father's words ringing in his head about how mudbloods were filth, and how no matter how bloody bright or how brilliant this one particular mudblood happened to be, no Malfoy would ever in a million years be permitted to marry anyone with such poor breeding. He'd gone on at length that even if she had proved smarter and better than him at bloody everything, she still wasn't good enough.

She'd  _never_  be good enough, according to Lucius.

Draco sighed, staring at the ceiling once more and trying not to think too hard on how her lips tasted and how fucking good it'd felt to be inside her. Merlin's hairy bollocks, he hadn't expected to feel like all his dreams were coming true when he'd fucked her on her desk a few days ago. He hadn't expected every deeply buried, shameful ounce of interest in the witch to resurface as quickly as it had done during the past few weeks since he'd learned of his wife's infidelity. He certainly hadn't expected to learn that he was the father of her fucking son.

Merlin's arse, Draco was still angry with her for that. How  _dare_  she keep his son from him?

Having had a good while to process the information since he'd learned the truth about Aurelian's paternity, Draco could logically come to the same conclusion she'd reached about keeping it from him. He'd been engaged to be married when Granger had gotten pregnant, no matter that it was an arranged marriage he hadn't particularly wanted, and he was an ex-Death Eater and a Malfoy, and all her friends bloody hated him. He knew from his mother that Granger hadn't told any of them the truth, either. She'd kept it from everyone except Narcissa, and it stung a little to know that in addition to wanting to protect herself and her son, she likely just hadn't wanted anything to do with him after waking up naked beside him following that first fuck.

Not that he could entirely blame her for that. They'd been working together for years, and they tended to end up screaming at each other or exchanging angry words in the workplace at least once a week. He could only imagine how that would've been compounded had he found out she was pregnant with his kid. She was right. He'd have been scornful and cruel to her during her pregnancy. He'd have tried to pressure her into terminating the pregnancy on his father's orders. He'd still been obsessed with his image in the wizarding world, and still holding out hope to make a proper pureblood match, as was expected of him.

Sure, they might've had many a night spent curled into bed together reading to their kid, and they might've had a lot of angry sex that would rock his bloody world, but it'd have been stressful and ugly and painful more often that it would've been pleasant.

And that was if he managed to talk his father into not killing off the witch and her son. Which was a very big 'if', Draco knew. Hell, even now he worried that his father might be sending someone to handle Astoria and then to handle Granger and Aurelian, too. Part of him wanted to get up, take his son, and call on Granger right that minute, despite the late hour and despite the fact that since fucking her in her office the other day, they hadn't managed to hold a cordial conversation. Yesterday she hadn't spoken to him at all – hadn't even looked in his direction, instead, holing herself up in her lab to finally begin studying the Jabberwalkie.

Today had been the same thing. He'd found a new case file on his desk, and a note in her hand-writing requesting he locate the being detailed in the file and haul it in so she could study it. She hadn't signed it, hadn't written anything to indicate their relationship had changed, and Draco was beginning to see how it was that the bitch had kept his son from him for five long years.

She was an expert at acting like the two of them had never shagged.

He kind of hated her for that. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, and she just pretended like it had never happened and went on with her day as though nothing had ever passed between them beyond cruel and angry words. He didn't know what to make of that, though he wondered how she managed to completely ignore him with such ease. Surely someone as quick-thinking and clever as Granger was prone to analyzing and over-thinking everything? How did she so effectively shut down all thought and emotion to just get on with things like they'd never taken place? How did she stand it, knowing that for the past five years all throughout her pregnancy, the birth of her son, and her return to work, as well as the subsequent years as he grew, she never once informed him he was a father? She never once hinted that they'd shagged. She never gave him any indication that he meant a single bloody thing to her. At least, nothing beyond when she berated him for getting wounded in the field.

Shaking his head to himself, Draco tried to think about something else. He had more pressing matters to attend to than Hermione Granger and the fact that they'd shagged. His divorce was impending just as soon as Astoria stopped being a stubborn little bitch and signed the bloody thing - and he was sure there was a reason she'd been putting it off. On top of that, his father was likely going to try and have his soon-to-be ex-wife killed if she didn't get her arse into gear and sign the sodding paperwork, and even then, he might still attempt to have her killed just to avoid the scandal of the divorce being splashed across the front page of the Prophet.

Draco knew that no matter how discreetly they handled things, and that no matter where Astoria shipped off to, he was going to make the front page of the paper. It was inevitable. The scandal of a divorce - so infrequent an occurrence in the wizarding world - coupled with the already-public knowledge of her pregnancy would, at first, paint him in a bad light and claim he was abandoning his wife and child in a delicate time. And then they would undoubtedly stumble onto the truth of Astoria's affair and Draco would once again be splashed on the front page. He expected that he would, again, be painted as a villain, likely accused of being the cold-hearted bastard that he was, probably accused of being a rubbish lover who couldn't satisfy his witch, and of being a rubbish human being to even consider splitting up with the woman while she was pregnant and sick as a result of the pregnancy. Never mind that the sprog wasn't even bloody his.

He needed to get a handle on that. He needed to speak to his mother. She would, undoubtedly, have drafted up some notice for the Prophet and would likely grease the right palms to play this off as professionally and discreetly as possible. Not that Draco held out much hope to avoid an enormous scandal. After all, he was a Malfoy, and there was nothing the gossips of the wizarding world liked more than seeing the rich and powerful facing difficult and trying times. The bloody vicious reporters would have a field day scribing about how no amount of money could buy happiness, and no amount of power seemed capable of preventing a horny trollop from looking for love and attention from the wrong bloody man.

He supposed, too, that eventually the whole sordid tale would come out. Draco was no fool. He'd known Astoria and Pucey had been an item before his mother and Galina Greengrass had cooked up the arrangement for his marriage to Astoria. In hindsight, he should've seen it coming that the witch would run back to her old flame when she wasn't getting the attention and affection she craved from Draco. No doubt the press would dredge up the history between Astoria and Adrian, and would speculate on whether they'd been forced to marry.

Hell, knowing his luck, they would get wind of Aurelian and the scandal of him "hiding" his firstborn son would be dragged out and put on display for the world to lap up. And Merlin knew they would lap that shit up like cats at cream. He could see it now, a star-crossed-lovers tale gone horribly wrong thanks to his overbearing and bigoted father and Granger's unfortunate blood status. They would paint him, once again, as a villain, likely accusing him of paying off Granger to keep it quiet and to have her silently raise their bastard love-child on the side. First Astoria would be accused of an affair, and then, when they got wind of Granger, Draco suspected he would be accused of an affair as well. There would be speculation about open marriages and mistresses and pay-offs to buy people's silence and he realized as he laid there thinking about it just why Granger had stayed so very far away. The press this would generate would probably mean he'd need to flee the bloody country for a time, and Draco hated himself a little when it occurred to him that if it came to that, he might be able to talk Granger into joining him.

Scoffing at himself as he laid there in the dark listening to the deep, rhythmic breathing of his infant son, Draco Malfoy almost laughed out loud at the idea of him being able to convince Hermione Granger of anything.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Narcissa Malfoy eyed her husband across the breakfast table with a little frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. It wasn't that he'd done anything all that out of the ordinary, but for some reason yet unknown to Narcissa, she was on edge. He was up to something. Her husband was notorious for plotting things, and Narcissa didn't at all like the way he rustled the paper with the vaguest hints of a cruel smirk curling his lips.

"Something amusing in the paper this morning, dear?" she enquired gently, not wanting to tip him off to her suspicions, but determined to get to the bottom of whatever was making him so jovial today.

If she didn't know better, she'd almost think he was plotting some poor soul's demise.

"Nothing at all, darling," Lucius replied, lowering the top half of the paper to peer at her over the rim of his recently acquired reading glasses.

Narcissa smiled politely, not liking that look one little bit.

"Big plans today, Cissy?" Lucius asked after they'd stared at one another for several long minutes.

Oh, that wasn't promising. She was supposed to be meeting with Miss Granger this evening for tea, as she had done fortnightly since her grandson's birth.

"The morning tea fundraiser for doing up Diagon Alley, followed by a hair appointment and afternoon tea with the ladies from my book club," Narcissa replied airily, adopting a tone of excitement, not at all wishing to tip Lucius off to the existence of Aurelian just yet.

He wasn't ready to know such dangerous information when plotting to kill off one of the mothers of Draco's children.

"Anything exciting on the reading list?" Lucius asked and Narcissa's stomach turned over.

Not once in the five years since she'd begun meeting with Granger had her husband asked after the 'book-club' she attended. Granger was, after all, very well read and Narcissa did tend to leave the meetings for tea with a list of new books to peruse, so the story hadn't been hard to maintain for it's specifics.

"Romantic trash about a summer fling," Narcissa flicked her fingers dismissively. "I believe tonight's book will be a tome of some kind – we haven't had one of those in a while."

"What time should I expect you home?" Lucius asked, and Narcissa frowned.

"The usual time," she said. "A little after eight, I expect."

"Indeed," Lucius nodded. "If I'm not home by then, do wait for me for dinner, won't you?"

"Pressing matters you'll be attending to this evening, dear?" Narcissa asked, her heart beginning to race inside her chest now.

She hadn't the slightest fear that her husband might be planning a rendezvous with a mistress. He wasn't the type – never had been. No, if he was going to be out late, he was definitely up to something and  _that_  was likely far more devastating that any affair he might dally in.

"Brokering a business arrangement to have a certain competitor eliminated from the market," Lucius smiled.

"Anyone I know?" Narcissa asked.

"They're an Australia company," Lucius dismissed. "Not even in our league, really, but they can likely be bought off to go away before they realise what a good thing they have."

Narcissa doubted very much that there was any Australian company, or that her husband's company was buying out anyone. In fact, she suspected whatever arrangement Lucius had been putting in place regarding Astoria would be underway.

Neither of them said another word on the matter for several long, tense minutes and Narcissa bit her lip, knowing that whatever he had in place to handle the situation would likely be for the best. Killing off their daughter-in-law might be very wrong, indeed, but the alternative should she lead the lawyers to their door would be far more distressing. She knew little of her husband's illegal dealings for the sake of indemnity, but that didn't mean she was entirely unaware that many of his ventures were less that legal.

"Be sure to be seen in public with your book-club tonight, Cissy," Lucius said when they'd both finished their breakfast and had risen to their feet.

Narcissa's eyes widened a little at the obvious hint, and she nodded her head slowly before stretching up to kiss him goodbye so he could be on his way to work.

"Be safe, Lucius," she whispered against his lips.

"I always am, love," he promised.

Narcissa nodded, pressing her lips together and hoping that once this whole mess was handled, Draco would forgive them for meddling.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Ginny, I need a blood sample," Hermione Granger informed the bed-ridden redhead as she strode into the bedroom of Harry and Ginny Potter.

Ginny blinked at her and Harry looked over, his wand in one hand while the other groped on the nightstand for his glasses.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Harry snarled when he got the spectacles onto his face. "I almost hexed you! What are you doing barging in here at… what time is it?"

He consulted the watch he filched off the nightstand before groaning.

"Five o'clock in the fucking morning!" Harry grumbled.

"Is that the time?" Hermione frowned, blinking at the couple where they still laid, abed. She consulted the watch strapped to her wrist. "Oh! So, it is. Bugger. Erm… sorry about that. But I really  _do_  need a blood sample. Actually, I need one from both of you."

"Both of us?" Ginny asked tiredly, looking better than she'd done during Hermione's last visit, but still burdened with the deep, dark circles beneath her eyes and the washed out palor to her face. "Whatever do you need one from both of us for? Harry's fit as a fiddle."

"I think I might've found the cause of the illness," Hermione confessed.

"Hermione, it's five o'clock in the morning," Harry reminded her. "What do you mean you've found the cause? Did you dream one up? Have you even been to bed? Weren't you wearing those clothes yesterday?"

He pointed at the jeans and blouse she was wearing under her lab-coat. Hermione looked down at herself.

"Ok, so I haven't been home yet. What of it?" Hermione demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "I might be onto something here and I  _need_  a blood sample from each of you."

"What do you mean you haven't been home?" Harry frowned at her. "Blimey, Hermione. Where's Aurey?"

"Oh, he's at Mum's," Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I was onto something yesterday, so I rang her and asked if she minded keeping him for the night."

"Right," Harry muttered. "Well, what do you need a blood sample from me for? I'm fine."

"I think you're patient zero," Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione, you're not listening. I'm healthy. I'm not affected in the slightest by whatever this is. It's only targeting witches, and only those who are pregnant."

"I though so too," Hermione held up her hand, pointing at him and nodding. "But I was wrong."

"Wrong?" Harry asked. "Someone else has been admitted with the same symptoms?"

Hermione shook her head. "You're patient zero. It only  _seems_  like this is affecting strictly pregnant women, but it's not. The rest of us are experiencing symptoms, but because we're not pregnant, they're affecting us differently."

"How do you mean?" Harry frowned, sitting up in bed and scratching at his bare chest, looking like he very much wanted a cup of coffee and another two hours of sleep.

"Do you remember about three weeks ago you and I had lunch and you mentioned that you'd had a really rubbish day at work? That you'd had a nasty headache all day and that you'd lost your temper several times throughout the day over largely inconsequential things?"

"It was a headache and a bad mood, Hermione," Harry sighed.

"They were symptoms," Hermione corrected him. "Ginny's symptoms began with headaches, bad moods, and then escalated quickly to sobbing and flu-like symptoms. Hers escalated because she's pregnant and the pathogen latched onto the elevated levels of estrogen caused by her pregnancy."

"You're saying something targeting estrogen latched onto me first?" Harry asked. "I'm a bloke, Hermione. Did you forget that part, or do you need me to get out of bed and show you that I'm the honest goods?"

"Merlin, please don't. I can't see that again," Hermione said, her eyes widening in horror at the idea.

Ginny giggled.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry chuckled. "Way to make a bloke feel desirable."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Estradiol – the predominant form of estrogen – is found in men," Hermione informed him. "It controls your libido, erectile function and spermatogenesis."

"Now you're telling me I have erectile dysfunction?" Harry laughed. "Blimey, Hermione, this better be a really weird dream I'm having."

"I said function, not dysfunction, you dolt!" Hermione laughed. "The point is, whatever this pathogen is, it's primary source of sustenance is estrogen. In males it might actually cause temporary dysfunction or a lack of interest in bed. Did you notice any signs like that around the same time that you were really cranky and had those headaches?"

"I…" Harry frowned. "Maybe a bit? I don't know, Hermione. I was cranky and had headaches – not in the mood for a shag."

"Meaning they're probably interconnected. The main symptoms of this illness are hypoglycaemia, anaemia, and estrogen depletion. All of those things cause headaches, bad moods, and general moodiness."

"And you think that because I had a headache and was in a bad mood, I was patient zero?" Harry asked. "And… what? This pathogen died off when it gobbled up all the estrogen in my body or something?"

"Actually, yes," Hermione nodded her head. "And I think you picked up that pathogen when you stumbled into that nasty job a few weeks ago where you thought you interrupted a shrine of some kind, do you remember?"

"At the Rosier estate," Harry said, frowning. "I'm sure it was just a weird little shrine, Hermione."

"It wasn't," Hermione shook her head. "I've just come from there, before I came here. I noticed that it bore signs of having been held under protective enchantments and some very powerful runes. Your team of Aurors probably didn't notice the abundance of Fairy Weed growing around the location because you were there during the day, and because they look very much like bushes of wild lavender."

"Fairy Weed?" Harry asked, clearly not firing on all cylinders as he stared at her blankly, obviously having no clue what Fairy Weed was, and likely not having even noticed the flowers growing around the shrine.

"It's a noxious weed that predominantly grows in areas where there are concentrations of fairy magic. It's poisonous, and at night the flowers glow and twinkle like the plant is full of fairies. It's actually a very rare magical plant since fairies are so small and the amount of fairy magic needed to stimulate it in any kind of concentration is typically beyond the capability of the fairy population with Britain. It's growth in such abundance around the site suggests that the protective magic was containing something else. Something Fairy. Did you set a spirit or a fairy free when you stumbled into that shrine?"

"Hermione, how in the hell would I know?" Harry demanded, always grumpy in the mornings. "Nothing screamed, and no presence made itself known."

"Well, what did happen when you breached the perimeter?" she asked, frowning at him.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "The spells fizzed across my magic, and I tripped on a loose rock of the little platform and scraped my knuckles. That was about it."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Hemione hissed. "Right, I need your blood. You're hopeless."

"How does any of this make me patient zero?" Harry wanted to know.

" _You_  broke the spells containing whatever was being contained there."

"And whatever it was is what's causing the illness?" Harry asked. "We need to hunt down some evil spirit? Is that what you're telling me?"

"You know, sometimes I wonder how in Merlin's bloody name you became an Auror when you don't use the brain in your head, Harry Potter," Hermione snapped, short on sleep and in no mood to suffer idiocy when she was on the verge of a breakthrough.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, Hermione crossed to Ginny, turned the woman's arm, and stabbed a sample phial into her vein.

"Ouch, Hermione," Ginny huffed, narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

"Don't get stroppy with me," Hermione warned. "If I don't get to the bottom of this – and soon – you run the risk of having the child in your womb being born infertile. And that's  _if_  you don't miscarry."

Ginny's eyes filled at the very idea and Hermione sighed, handing the redhead a tissue before rounding the bed and giving Harry the same treatment, stabbing her sample phial into his inner elbow and drawing the blood she needed for testing.

"Bloody hell, that stings," Harry grumbled.

"Don't be a baby," Hermione said.

"How will a blood sample help?" Harry wanted to know. "The staff at the hospital took blood from both of us and they couldn't find any pathogens."

"They didn't know what they were looking for because usually this is a disease that only affects fairies," Hermione replied. "Something similar wreaked havoc in the fairy populations of Britain about three years ago and then vanished, leaving the populations devastated and wiping out an entire generation of fairies."

"Why is it infecting witches now?" Harry asked.

"Because  _you_  disturbed what I think might've been the imprisoned 'inventor' of the pathogen."

"Now pathogens have inventors?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Pathogens are germs, Hermione."

"And this is the magical world, Harry," Hermione replied. "Which includes fairies. And fairies are separated into light and dark fey. Unlike wizards, where the balance is in place – where there can be no light without the dark – the fairy population is segregated in two. Light. And Dark. And I believe that whatever that shrine was guarding was very likely the Dark fairy responsible for generating the pathogen."

"How would a fairy have infected me with something?" Harry asked. "I didn't even see any bloody fairies."

"Because you weren't looking for them," Hermione said. "As soon as I test your blood, I'll know."

"Why mine?" Harry wanted to know. "I'm healthy again. No headaches. No crankiness. And my libido's fine."

"There will be a stamp in your blood, just the same," Hermione said. "You know that magic leaves traces. This is nothing more than a magical virus. Where it once infected fairies, it's built to such a strength to infect humans because the fairy responsible was likely imprisoned for years in that place, festering and building upon itself until it reached a strength to infect humans. When you crossed the threshold and broke the enchantment, you said something fizzed across your magic. And it did. The pathogens. It will have infected the magic in your blood and then sought out everything it needed to live. Estrogen, blood sugar, and iron. In men the estrogen would be low enough that if the pathogen didn't spread elsewhere, it'd have died out with you. Had we quarantined you after the incident, everyone would be fine."

"So, it's all my fault?" Harry asked, his eyes going wide.

"I didn't say that," Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"You did."

'I said that you passed it on. You didn't cause it."

"I've killed our kid," Harry muttered, looking horrified.

"I don't understand, Ginny said. "Wouldn't women, in general, be afflicted if this thing feeds on estrogen?"

"We are," Hermione said. "I've been getting migraines for the past few weeks and I got dizzy in my lab yesterday."

"What about the kids?" Harry asked, frowning at her suddenly.

"Kids have very low levels of estrogen," Hermione shook her head. "Most wouldn't even have enough to exhibit any symptoms were those small stores of it depleted. At most, maybe a tantrum or two would present as a symptom, and that would be it."

"You're sick too?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"How do we stop it?" Harry asked.

"I have to make sure this is the cause, first," Hermione said.

"And when you have?"

"I'll develop a human strain of the vaccine that we dosed the fairy community with following the outbreak," Hermione shrugged.

"Am I going to lose the baby?" Ginny asked, staring up at her fearfully.

Hermione didn't want to lie to her, but she doubted the truth would do her any favours, right then.

"You might," she admitted in a whisper. "Truthfully, losing it might be the only way to save you. You've been afflicted the longest, after Harry. His system burned it out when his estrogen levels depleted, but yours have been rapidly increasing because of your pregnancy."

"And yours?" Harry asked.

"Mine will deplete soon," Hermione said. "I'll begin taking a supplement to inhibit estrogen production until we find a cure."

"Won't that… make your body go nuts?" Harry frowned.

"I might get a little hairier," Hermione shrugged. "It won't last long. I've only got to stop it until we cure the illness and then everything can go back to normal. In the meantime, I think you need to stop taking the estrogen supplement they gave you, Ginny."

Ginny nodded weakly in agreement.

"When will you know if this is the cause?" Harry asked.

"As soon as I compare your blood work," Hermione told him, shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay," Harry said. "Well, keep me posted, ok?"

Hermione nodded, taking her samples with her and leaving the worried couple to attempt a few more hours of sleep. As soon as she left their house, she Disapparated for the Ministry and her lab, once more.


	21. Chapter 20

Aurelian Granger frowned when he woke up in bed at Gran's place. Mummy hadn't come back to get him last night. Gran had told him that they were having a sleepover while Mummy worked on something at the office. He'd been excited last night. He didn't get to stay and Gran's place often. But this morning, Aurelian wanted Mummy. She'd been busy lately, and Aurelian wanted to know what she was working on. Usually if she was this busy it meant she was studying a new creature in her lab and Aurelian wanted to know what it was.

Throwing the covers off himself, Aurelian peeled his pyjamas off his body and chucked them on the floor before pulling on one of the spare changes of clothes Gran kept in the drawers of his room for nights when he stayed over. They were a bit tight, he noticed, pulling on the front of his shirt to try and stretch it to fit his body. His pants were too short for his legs too, and Aurey supposed Gran's comments about him growing like a weed must be to blame.

Silly Gran.

When he was dressed, Aurelian hurried downstairs, finding Sparky, the dog, asleep on the floor in the kitchen while Gran puttered about in her house coat, making breakfast and humming along to the radio.

"Gran? I want to see Mummy," Aurelian told the elderly woman as he climbed up to sit on the kitchen counter.

"Aurey?" Gran asked, spinning toward him.

She clutched her chest as though he'd surprised her, and Aurelian frowned at her.

"I want Mummy," Aurelian repeated.

"She worked late last night, darling," Gran said. "And she'll have work again today."

"But I want to see her," Aurey said. "I know you're supposed to meet the ladies to go for tea at ten o'clock."

He knew because Gran met with the ladies every week and because she'd been telling him about it yesterday.

"You can come along, darling. I know Ginny's still too unwell to look after you."

Aurelian didn't like the sound of going to tea with lots of old ladies. He wanted to see Mummy and find out what she was studying in her lab. He wanted to see Mr Draco, too. Aurelian liked Mr Draco. He was interesting, and he had hair just like Aurey's. He was Scorpius's daddy, but Aurelian had secretly begun hoping that Mr Draco might be his daddy, too. They looked alike enough that he could be, and Mummy seemed to huff at him a whole lot.

"I don't want to go to tea, Gran. I want to go and see Mummy and Mr Draco," Aurelian told his grandmother sternly, crossing his arms over his little chest before pulling at one of his sleeves when it cut into his arm. It really was much too tight.

"I know, darling. But Mummy's working," Gran said patiently.

"I could play with Mr Draco," Aurelian suggested. "He doesn't go hunting on Wednesdays."

"How do you know?" Gran asked, looking curious.

Aurelian grinned.

"Mummy said Wednesdays are the worst days in the office because Mr Draco doesn't go hunting on Wednesdays. He stays in the office to do paperwork and he drives her spare."

"You rather like Mr Draco, don't you, Aurey?" Gran asked.

"I want him to be my daddy," Aurelian admitted, smiling hopefully.

"You should tell Mummy you think so, dear," Gran smiled in return. "I'm sure she'd like to know that you like Mr Draco very much."

"He has hair like mine," Aurelian told her. "And Scorp is his son. I always wanted a little brother. If Mr Draco was my daddy, Scorp could be my brother."

Gran nodded, smiling strangely at him now.

"Well…. I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you were to pop by and see Mummy, today," Gran mused. "Especially if Mr Draco will be there to keep an eye on you. Oh, but they'll be at the Ministry and I don't know the way. I can't just Floo you over to them when I'm a muggle."

"I can Floo by myself," Aurelian told his grandmother. "I know the way to Mummy's office. Please can I go and see Mummy and Mr Draco, Gran? Please? Can I?"

"Let's have some breakfast and find you something a bit better fitting to wear, and then we'll see, alright?" Gran asked, smiling indulgently.

Aurelian nodded, hopping down off the counter and hurrying over to accept the bowl of porridge Gran handed him.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco Malfoy frowned as he sat at his desk in his office at the Ministry of Magic. He hadn't slept well, and he was irritable as a result. His mood hadn't improved in the slightest when his mother had made some not so subtle comments of breakfast about how he ought to spend his evening – daring to say he ought to take Granger out for dinner. Draco didn't like it one little bit, and from the look of disgust his father had worn, Lucius didn't like it either.

Not that he'd mind taking Granger out for dinner. Or he wouldn't have, had he arrived at work to find her in a pleasant mood.

But Draco Malfoy was beginning to think his luck had officially run out because Granger most certainly was  _not_  in a good mood when he'd arrived at work. She'd stormed out of her lab at the time of his arrival when he'd begun knocking on the door and she'd looked terrible. Dressed in yesterday's clothes, her eyes bloodshot, and with her hair frizzing out of control, she'd looked like some vengeful hair-demon come to feast on his soul. She'd levelled him a glare and she'd shoved past him muttering about needing coffee and how if she ever had to look at another Fairy, she might kill someone.

He suspected she was working on figuring out what was going on with the pregnant witches, but he hadn't dared ask her about it when she'd turned her wand on him the minute he'd opened his mouth, even before he could utter a single word.

Scowling at the paperwork on his desk, Draco wondered if anyone would mind if he broke routine and went out into the field today. He wasn't supposed to spend five full days a week in the field, but Merlin's bloody toenails, if he didn't get out of here and far away from the temptation Granger made, he might go mad. Worse, he might burst into her lab and seduce her into shagging him again.

Somehow, he doubted it would go as well as last time since she would likely try to hex him if he came within three feet of her. Before he could decide whether it was worth spending another day in the field, the patter of small footsteps suddenly filled the otherwise quiet office and Draco rose to his feet.

"Mummy?" a familiar voice asked, dashing first into Granger's office across the hall before tearing right back out of there when the office was found to be empty.

"Aurelian?" he asked, hurrying around his desk and toward the door in time to see his son reaching for the handle to his mother's lab and beginning to open the door.

Running after the small boy, Draco scooped him up just as the child took the first step into the lab.

"Mummy?" Aurelian asked, not struggling in Draco's hold.

"Aurelian, what are you doing here?" Draco asked the small boy, leaning forward with the boy tucked under one arm while he reached for the doorhandle to the lab with the other.

"Aurey?" Granger asked turning from her workbench and frowning at them. "Malfoy? What on earth is going on here? You can't be in here. Either of you. Out! Now!"

Her eyes widened when she realised they weren't a mirage and Draco stepped back, taking the boy with him while Granger hurried for the door. He wasn't sure he liked the way she looked so panicked at the sight of the two of them and suspected she must be working on something that might be dangerous or toxic should Aurelian get too close to it.

"Mummy!" Aurelian shouted, reaching for the witch and beginning to wriggle in Draco's hold.

"Aurelian," Granger said, sounding exasperated as she hurried across the lab and pushed them both back out into the hallway before pulling the door closed. "What are you doing here, sweetheart? You're supposed to be with Gran. You haven't run off on her, have you? She'll be worried sick."

She took the squirming child from Draco the minute she'd closed the lab door, lifting him to prop him on her hip and peering into his face. Draco watched the way the small boy cuddled into her embrace, burying his little face in her hair and sighing contentedly.

"Why aren't you with Gran? How did you even get here?"

"I took the Floo," the small boy smiled toothily. "I wanted to see what you're working on. You didn't come home last night, Mummy. I missed you."

"Oh, Aurey," Granger sighed, closing her eyes and pulling the boy into her body a little closer, pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead.

Draco looked on, intrigued and concerned in equal measure.

"You didn't go home?" he asked in a low voice, eyeing the witch worriedly.

"I stayed with Gran," Aurelian informed him. "Hello, Mr Draco."

"Good Morning, Aurelian," Draco replied, smiling at the child in spite of his sudden worry for the witch he couldn't stop bloody thinking about.

"How're you?" Aurelian asked, waving at him belatedly.

"I'm well, and you?" Draco asked of his son, amused.

"I missed Mummy," Aurelian said. "Missed you, too… Mummy?"

"What is it, Aurey?" Granger asked, sounding weary and looking suddenly like she could use a good sleep.

"Can Mr Draco be my Daddy?" Aurelian asked. "I like him. I want him to be my Daddy."

Draco's eyes widened at the request, his gaze darting to Granger's face while she frowned, looking frustrated and glaring at him as though the boy's request was somehow his fault.

"Aurey…" she began.

Draco suspected she was about to tell the kid not to be foolish, and he wasn't about to let her sweep his relationship with his son under the rug so easily.

"I'd be honoured to be your father, Aurelian," Draco informed the boy.

Aurelian beamed.

"Really?" he shouted excitedly, squirming in his mother's grip and reaching toward Draco, making grabby hands and obviously wanting to be held.

Draco took the boy back from his mother, unable to hide his grin as he propped the kid on his hip and let the little tyke curl his arms around his neck.

"Malfoy!" Granger hissed, her eyes flashing angrily.

Draco ignored her, carrying to boy down the hall and into his office.

"What have you been up to, Aurelian?" Draco asked the child, rounding his desk and sitting in his chair. Aurelian sat on his lap, perched on his knees, his legs dangling as he stared at Draco with a big grin on his face.

"I went to Gran's," the boy told him. "We made muffins. And I played with Sparky. And we watched the telly, a bit. And she read me a bedtime story."

"Who is Sparky?" Draco asked curiously.

"Gran's dog," Aurelian told him.

"Did you have a good time, then?" he asked ignoring the way Granger stalked into his office and closed the door, scowling at him heatedly across the desk from behind their son.

"It was ok," Aurelian shrugged. "How's Scorp? Is he here? I haven't seen him in ages."

"You saw him on the weekend, Aurelian," Granger reminded the boy.

"That was ages ago," Aurey rolled his eyes.

"Scorpius is well," Draco told him. "He's been asking after you. I told him you might stop by and visit him sometime soon, if your mother allows it."

"He can't go to the Manor," Granger said immediately.

"But Mum," Aurey began, turning to look at his mother pleadingly.

"No, Aurelian. You won't be going anywhere near Malfoy Manor," Granger said sternly, her icy gaze fixed on Draco and Draco frowned at her, wondering what he'd done to make her so angry.

Other than telling the boy he'd be his father, obviously.

"Why not?" Draco challenged.

"Because your father will be there," Granger hissed. "What do you think he'll do when he spots Aurey?"

"Have a conniption, most likely," Draco admitted, shrugging.

"He'll not be going."

"Well… can Scorpius come to our house?" Aurelian asked, clearly distressed by Granger's ultimatum.

"That will be fine," Granger snapped, and Draco was relieved that she wasn't trying to keep the brothers apart.

He wondered why she didn't like the idea of Aurelian attending the Manor before recalling that one of Granger's only visits to his house had resulted in her being tortured on the floor of the Drawing Room while his Aunt interrogated and threatened to let Greyback rape her if she didn't give up the answers Bellatrix wanted. He supposed, looking at it from that perspective, in addition to factoring in the likelihood of Lucius meeting Aurelian, that it was somewhat understandable that she didn't want the boy visiting the Manor.

At least, he could understand for now. Eventually, Draco would have to insist that Aurelian be allowed to visit, and even live at the Malfoy family home. After all, the boy was a Malfoy and it wasn't right that he lived anywhere else. Perhaps he ought to see what he could do about convincing Granger that the Manor wasn't all bad when Astoria cleared off for good and things in the media died down a bit.

"Can we go there now? I want to see Scorpius," Aurelian said, interrupting Draco's scheming to insist upon seeing his brother.

"Mummy and Draco are working, Aurey," Granger said, exasperated.

"You shouldn't be," Draco informed her. "You look like hell, witch. You didn't even go home last night. The kid confirmed as much and you're in yesterday's clothes. Whatever you're working on in the lab can wait."

"It can't," Granger said tightly. "I've found the cause of the illness in the pregnant witches. I'm trying to concoct a cure."

"What's the cause?" Draco frowned at her, ruffling Aurelian's hair when the boy pulled a toy Hinkypunk from his pocket and began waddling it across Draco's chest.

"A super-strain of the Fairy virus that wiped out most of the fairy population three years ago," Granger said, and Draco paled a little, recalling the uproar of their department when that virus had ripped through the fairy population.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, and Granger hissed at him before eyeing Aurelian meaningfully, obviously not thrilled to have him swearing in front of the boy.

"Bad words!" Aurelian announced. "You have to put money in the swear jar, Daddy."

Granger's face lost all colour at the boy's address of him and Draco's heart skipped a beat, his stomach turning over. Bloody hell, he was in over his head. He was entirely too happy to hear his son call him 'daddy', and from Granger's face, she was the farthest thing from happy.

"I'll be sure to do that, Aurelian," Draco drawled, unable to keep from smirking. He almost laughed when the boy smirked in return.

"Why don't we get out of here for the day, yeah?" Draco suggested to the child. "Your mother is dead on her feet, and I'm sure Scorpius is lonely at the Manor. You run on home with your Mum and I'll go and grab Scorpius, alright?"

"Promise?" Aurelian asked.

Draco nodded.

"Swear on my magic, son," Draco told him, offering the boy his hand to shake and chuckling when Aurelian shook his hand smartly.

"Mummy, we have to go home. You sleep, and Scorp and I will play with Daddy."

"Aurelian, you can't just begin calling Draco 'daddy'," the witch protested, frowning worriedly.

"But he's my daddy," Aurelian said. "He said he would be. And he looks like me. We have the same hair. See?" he twisted in Draco's lap, pulling on a lock of Draco's hair and showing it to his mother whilst leaning close enough, allowing the identically coloured strands of hair on Draco's head and Aurelian's head to mix together.

"Granger, it's fine," Draco said gently, shaking his head as the witch wrung her hands together.

"It's not fine! What if someone hears him?" Granger hissed, frowning at him fiercely.

Draco shrugged. "Come on, Aurey. Let's get you and your Mum home before she has a conniption, yeah?" he said to the small boy. "She's had a big night. Needs some sleep."

He lifted the boy off his lap and watched Aurelian round the desk to hug his mother's legs.

"Let's go home, Mummy. You can have a nap," Aurelian told her.

Granger eyed the boy helplessly before frowning at Draco again.

"Go on," he told her, nodding her out the door. "Get your things and take the tot home, Granger. I'll meet you there."

"You can't just… make a house-call," Granger protested even as Aurelian climbed the woman like she was a jungle gym.

Draco snapped his fingers at her and pointed her out the door, before rounding his desk and steering her out the door where she refused to budge. In fact, he steered her and the small boy all the way to the nearest fireplace and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder for shoving her into the fire with Aurelian in her arms.

"Home!" he shouted, sending the two of them on their way and smirking to himself for a moment before stepping into the Floo himself and calling out for the Manor, intent on collecting his second son from his mother before forcing Granger to face the fact that sooner or later she was going to have to accept that they were family.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione Granger frowned at her reflection as she stomped into the bathroom of her house. She really did look terrible, with dark circles under her eyes thanks to her sleepless night and the ever-growing mountain of anxiety piling up inside her brain. She was bone weary and tired after so many hours spent working and she could use a good sleep and the chance to just shut her mind off for a while. The last thing she needed was to be dealing with Aurelian calling Draco Malfoy 'daddy' and insisting that they were all one big happy family.

Merlin, she'd spent how long trying to distract herself from memories of shagging him on her desk at work and now he was just barging into her life all over again and upsetting the applecart all the more. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone?

Grumbling under her breath about pushy Malfoys and arrogant twats, Hermione stripped off yesterday's clothes and ran the hot water of the shower, hoping it might revive her a little, or at the very least, rid her skin of the smell of fairy blood and bubotuber pus.

"Granger?" she heard Malfoy call out just as she was trying to wash the shampoo out of her hair and Hermione cursed.

"Daddy?" Aurelian shouted, and Hermione listened to the sound of his boisterous footsteps as the boy raced across the house. "Scorpius! You came!"

"Aurey?" she heard Scorpius respond and Hermione sighed, supposing that at least the children would be kept busy while she shouted at Draco for being such a prat and agreeing to have Aurey call him 'Dad' in the first place.

"Where's your Mum, Aurey?" Draco asked her child.

"Showering," Aurelian told Draco. "Want to play dragons, Scorp?"

The boy must've answered in the affirmative, because the sound of them both running and beginning to roar at one another met her ears.

"Showering, huh?" she heard Malfoy say before the bathroom door opened.

"Malfoy!" Hermione squealed, clapping her hands over her private places to try and hide them from his gaze when he strolled into the bathroom knowing full well that she was naked.

"Mind if I join you?" he drawled, sounding wickedly amused.

"Yes! I do mind," she snapped. "Get out!"

"Where else am I going to talk to you without those two overhearing us?" he asked, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms over his chest.

She could tell from the way he craned his neck a little that he was trying to get an eyeful of her in all her naked glory. The peeping bastard.

"Not here. I'm naked, Malfoy," Hermione protested.

"I've seen it before," he reminded her.

"Not like this," Hermione argued.

"Granger, stop dodging me, yeah?" Draco demanded. "Now, are you going to throw a hissy fit if I come in there with you, or are you getting out?"

"I haven't finished washing my hair," Hermione protested.

"So, I'm coming in, then," he said, and Hermione gulped when he took his jumper off.

"Daddy?" Aurelian appeared in the doorway before Malfoy could take a step in her direction.

"Aurelian?" Malfoy asked, turning to their son.

"Scorpius is hurt," Aurelian told him.

"What? How?" Draco said, forgetting his plans of seduction as he charged out of the bathroom behind Aurelian, intent on finding out what had happened to Scorpius.

Muttering to herself, Hermione lathered conditioner through her hair before rinsing it out quickly and stepping out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her body, following the sounds of crying coming from outside the bathroom, leaving wet footprints on the floor as she went.

"Blimey, that's a lot of blood. What the bloody hell happened, Aurey?" Draco was asking, cradling Scorpius while the boy cried and clutched his face.

"He tripped on the stairs," Aurelian said, looking distressed. "I tried to catch him, but I missed. I skinned my elbows sliding down after him."

Aurelian showed off the injuries. Hermione frowned, wondering why he wasn't crying at least a little bit too.

"Oh, Aurey," Hermione sighed, hurrying over, heedless of the towel she wore that barely covered her bum. She scooped the boy into her hold. "Bring Scorpius to the kitchen, Malfoy. What's he done?"

Draco scooped him up, hurrying after her into the kitchen where she set Aurelian on the bench and reached for the first aid kit.

"Bloody hell, I think he's put his teeth through his lip," Draco said. "And maybe broken his nose."

"Oh, dear," Hermione sighed, jostling him after handing Aurelian a tube of ointment to put on his grazed elbows – having done so many times in the past because Aurey was notorious for skinning his elbows and his knees when he fell down the stairs or came off his broom.

"Let's have a look. Come on, Scorpius, you're alright, darling. Let me see," she crooned to the crying toddler, shoving Malfoy aside as she did so and prying the crying child's hands away from his face. "Oh dear, it's a broken nose, for sure. Come on darling, you close your eyes for me and we'll have it mended in just a jiffy, won't we? That's it.  _Episky!_ "

Scorpius howled as the cartilage clicked back into place, clutching his face all over again.

"Granger!" Malfoy growled at her, clearly distressed thanks to his child's pain.

"Hush up, Draco," Hermione told him. "And find me some dittany and some salve in the box there. His lip's not too bad. The tooth didn't go all the way through, just part of the way. It'll be tender for a few days, but dittany will stop the bleeding and close the hole."

Malfoy scowled, rummaging in the box.

"Are you alright, Aurey?" she asked her son, watching the boy doctor his own wounds.

"I'm okay, Mummy," Aurelian told her, peeling open some band-aids and slapping them on over the grazes.

"Malfoy, the salve," she snapped her fingers at Draco and he glared at her, digging for it before locating it and handing it over. "Alright Scorpius, come on, love. Just a little bit of this and it won't hurt anymore, you'll see. Come on, darling."

She managed to pry the boy's hands from his nose and mouth with Malfoy's help, dripping dittany on the small wound before smearing some salve over it.

"Let me get a cloth so we can wash his face," Hermione said, hurrying back down the hall for a face washer and running it under some warm water before returning.

"I'll do it," Malfoy said, taking the washer from her and gently washing his youngest son's face. "Come on, Scorp, you're all healed up now, yeah? Let's get a look at you?"

He cleaned the boy's face and Scorpius sniffled when he realised he was no longer in pain.

"You alright, kid?" Draco asked the child, smiling encouragingly into his little face.

Scorpius nodded, the resilience of children allowing him to bounce right back from the injury without too much difficulty now that the pain was gone.

"There's a good boy," Draco said. "You be more careful on the stairs in future, yeah?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Aurelian, you too, alright? Not so fast in the house," Draco chided the pair of them and Hermione looked on when her son nodded in agreement.

"Maybe a less dangerous game this time, love?" Hermione suggested to the boys.

"We could watch telly?" Aurelian suggested. "Until Scorp feels better?"

Hermione smiled.

"Alright," she nodded. "Put something on, darling. I'll get dressed."

Aurelian nodded, bounding away as though he'd never been hurt, already asking Scorpius what he'd like to watch. Hermione shook her head, turning to clean up the mess they'd made in the kitchen before recalling she only wore a towel. She didn't say anything to Malfoy before leaving the room, hurrying up the stairs and into her bedroom, intent on getting dressed.

Malfoy followed her.

"Damn it, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, clutching her towel closed after almost dropping it when she spotted him in the mirror.

"Granger?" he asked, stepping across the threshold of the bedroom and pushing the door almost all the way closed.

"Don't even think about suggesting you help me out of this towel, Draco Malfoy," she warned, narrowing her eyes on the wizard in frustration.

"You're being stubborn," he said. "And avoiding me. You've been avoiding me since the other day in your office."

"Because you're still married and we…  _shagged_ ," Hermione spluttered. "We can't just…"

She frowned when he strode across the room, closing the distance between the two of them.

"We can't just what?" he demanded when he was close enough to touch, though he kept his hands to himself.

"Your wife is in the hospital, dying, and you're seducing me, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed at him. "That's not alright."

"She's not my wife anymore," Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She signed the papers?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Today was the deadline… so, she'd better have signed them," Draco scowled.

"So, you're not certain she has," Hermione huffed, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him. "And even if she has, you can't just… seduce me! Just because we share a son doesn't mean we're going to…"

He cut her off when he stepped closer and leaned down to steal a kiss from her lips. Hermione pushed him away after only a moment, not trusting herself with him for a second.

"Granger," he warned, his voice low and husky.

"Don't you, 'Granger' me, Malfoy," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You need to forget this notion that just as soon as your wife is out of the picture, you and I are just going to pick things up and run with them. I'm not about to be your rebound."

"My rebound?" Malfoy scoffed. "As though I've ever actually cared about Astoria in a romantic sense? Come on, Granger. You don't rebound if you weren't in love, and I most certainly was not and never have been in love with my wife."

"But…" Hermione protested.

"None of your excuses are going to work, Granger. We've got a kid together, and when I shagged you the other day, it was probably the best sex I've ever had. Why are you fighting this so hard? It's going to come out eventually, you know? All of it. Astoria's affair. You and Aurelian. The divorce. Her baby not being mine. No matter how quietly she signs the papers and goes away, it will come out. Don't you want to be able to say we've got shit figured out between us when that happens."

"We'll never have things figured out between us, Draco!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "There's too much baggage in the way, and there's your father and your bloodline, and all that rot to worry about."

"My bloodline is already continued through Aurelian and Scorpius," Draco argued with her. "And my father will come 'round. You'll see."

"I don't want to see," she told him. "You and I aren't compatible. We never have been."

"Rubbish!" Malfoy argued. "We've got more bloody chemistry between us than your entire lab, witch. We have had since we were dumb teenagers. Why are you fighting this so hard? What are you so afraid of? I've already knocked you up, and Potter already knows Aurelian's my son and hasn't killed anyone."

Hermione bit her lip, shaking her head and looking down.

"I'm happy alone," she said.

"Liar," Draco accused. "No one is happy alone. I sure as hell am not, and I know you're lying to say you are. What are you thinking is going to happen? That you'll someday meet someone else willing to raise my son? That even if you did, I'd allow it?"

" _Allow_ it?" Hermione hissed, her head snapping up as she glared at him. "You're not my fucking keeper, Malfoy! I don't need your permission to do anything."

"You need my permission if you mean to involve some other tosspot in my son's life. He's already calling me 'Daddy', Granger; as he bloody well should because I'm his bloody father. What are you going to do? Confuse the matter all the more by dating someone else? You haven't bothered up until now and you  _know_  I'm interested in giving things a go with you."

"You…." Hermione spluttered at him, flabbergasted at his announcement.

"What?" he frowned, clearly confused by her shell-shock.

"You can't just… blurt something like that out," Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. "We're not… I mean, we haven't… and… you…"

Hermione shook her head, staring at Malfoy utterly dumbfounded.

"What?" he repeated. "I can't just say I want to try things with you?" he confirmed.

Hermione nodded.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Malfoy demanded crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. "You're the mother of my son, Granger. You're the witch who harps on about my safety, and nags me about paperwork and protocols and proper procedures. You're basically my work-wife, as it is. The only difference, should we give things a go, would be that I'd be bending you over that desk in your office a whole lot more often and I'd have to put up with you nagging me outside of office hours, too."

"Because that sounds so good?" Hermione asked scathingly. "This isn't… We're not trying things of for size, Malfoy. Sharing a son doesn't mean we have to date."

He narrowed his eyes on her, scowling, and Hermione took a small step backward.

"What are you so afraid of, Granger? My father?"

Hermione shook her head.

"If Lucius tries anything, I'll deal with him," she said.

"Then what is it?" Draco demanded. "You and I together makes sense. It always has. We're both brainy, we're both stubborn as mules, and we're not afraid to hurt each other's feelings. On top of that we have this haze of sexual tension between us and have done since probably the Yule Ball in fourth, and on the occasions that it's gotten the better of us, it's been bloody brilliant. So, what's your bloody problem?

"We're not compatible," Hermione argued.

"Yes, we are," he replied.

"We'll drive each other spare," she tried again.

"Probably, but it'll be bloody worth it," he informed her.

"You're still married."

"Not for long," Draco reminded her.

Hermione scowled, her heart pounding in her chest as he slowly back her across the room, intent on getting to the bottom of her resistance.

"It'll confuse the children," Hermione said.

"Aurelian is already calling me 'Dad', Granger," he sighed. "And Scorpius is young enough that he's not going to be too traumatised if you step into his life as a mother-figure. Especially since Astoria will be stepping out of that role and relocating across the globe."

"We hate each other, Malfoy," Hermione insisted, her back hitting the wall by the fireplace.

He raised one eyebrow in silent challenge and Hermione glared at him stubbornly.

"I haven't hated you since I was about fifteen, Granger," he said. "I didn't particularly like you, but I haven't hated you since even before the war."

"You called me a mudblood," Hermione reminded him, scandalized.

"It was expected of me, and I was trying to make myself see you as my father wanted me to see you," he argued in return.

"Meaning?" Hermione frowned, raising her eyebrows at him and watching the way his cheeks flushed the faintest shade of pink.

"Come on, Granger," he said in a low voice. "You're smart. You figure it out. What possible reason could I have for trying to convince myself that you were dirty and unattractive and beneath notice? What reason does any idiot teenage boy have for picking on a girl?"

"You expect me to believe you fancied me?" she scoffed.

"I wouldn't say fancied… I…" he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Alright, so, maybe I would say that. But I was an idiot kid and I was on the wrong side of the war and when I drunkenly confessed to my father that I'd been looking in your direction, he made it beyond clear that you would never be suitable as a candidate for the next Mrs Malfoy. So I was a right bloody prick and tried to tell myself he was right, and here I am ten years later in the midst of a messy divorce from the woman my father said  _was_  right for playing the next Mrs Malfoy, and I'm standing in your bloody bedroom, looking at you in that cute bloody towel that barely covers your arse, hoping you'll drop it, and listening to our sons playing downstairs, all whilst trying to pry the truth out of as to why you don't want to bloody give it a go with me."

Hermione blinked at him, completely shocked. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she even believed him. Surely, he was just trying to get his way. Surely, this was just some ploy to convince her to date him – maybe even to marry him – because he'd found out he had a son with her and he was old fashioned enough that he wanted to wed her to legitimise the boy.

Malfoy sighed heavily, running a hand through his hand and looking exasperated as though he could hear every thought running through her head and Hermione frowned at him.

"Tell me why you're so afraid to try things with me, Hermione," he said in a low voice, his use of her first name surprising her so much that she almost dropped the ends of the towel she'd fallen to clutching.

Hermione frowned. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't scared of anything, but she knew it would be a lie.

"I…" Hermione shook her head, biting her lip and looking down at her feet for a moment, trying to gather her courage.

"Mmm?" Malfoy hummed, stepping closer until he invaded her personal space. He lifted his hands and tunnelled them into her damp curls, tipping her head up to hold her gaze.

"I just… what if we gave it a go, and the kids were all excited and happy and accepting, and then things fell apart? What if we try, and fail?" Hermione asked in a whisper, tracing her eyes over his face and hating him a little for being so handsome and for passing those intense grey eyes on to his son. She'd been conditioned for the past five years to fall into eyes like his and now here he was, tempting her to fall into his eyes instead.

He smiled just a little, almost as though he thought she was adorable.

"Come on, love," he said gently. "You're Hermione Granger. You've never failed a single thing in your life."

Hermione's breath left her lungs in a rush and she stared at him, trying to understand where he got this faith that they could make something of the mess and tension between them.

"Are you only pushing this because of Aurelian?" she asked. "Because of your mother and her insistence on this?"

One corner of his mouth pulled up.

"No," he confessed. "I admit that knowing Aurelian is my son certainly means I'm pushing to have you agree harder than I might've had we not already had a child together, but he's not the  _only_  reason I want you, Granger."

Hermione stared at him, trying to understand how he could seem so sure that she was what he wanted.

"Why me, then?" she said. "I'm not fishing for compliments. I'm genuinely curious. I'm hardly the nicest or the prettiest person you know."

"You're the most interesting," he replied. "And you're the one brave enough to shout at me and tell me when I'm being a complete tosser. You slapped me once, witch. Who else in that entire school would've dared to slap me for being a rude little prick?"

"You want me for my violent nature?" she asked sceptically, raising her eyebrows.

He smirked.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Maybe I keep catching myself looking at you whenever we're in vicinity of one another. Maybe I've spent too bloody long comparing every other woman I meet to you, and finding them all lacking."

Hermione frowned at him, not sure she even  _wanted_  to believe what he was saying and what it might mean.

"Malfoy…" she began, shaking her head slowly.

"Don't just shoot this down on bloody principle of being stubborn, Granger," he said quietly, cutting her off before she could find some way to give him an easy let down. "If you need time to think about it, or you've got some stuff you need to figure out first, that's fine. But don't say no to trying things with me just because I'm Draco Malfoy and you're Hermione's bloody Granger. I think we're getting a little old to keep hissing at each other like feral cats, don't you?"

Hermione sighed, searching his face and trying to figure out if he was being genuine or if this was all just some unfortunate mess of transferred feelings. She could tell he wasn't going to give up, even if she told him to shove off. He was many things, but he'd never been a quitter when it came to getting his own bloody way and Hermione kind of hated him for that, almost as much as she admired his willpower.

"Get your divorce settled first, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "Divorce your wife, and figure out the custody of Scorpius with her, and let some of the fuss die down in the papers after they get wind of it. And maybe break the news to your father that he has two grandsons instead of one, and keep an eye out for assassins, because I really do think he'll try to have Aurelian and I killed, rather than daring to face such accepting notions as to allow a half-blood and muggleborn into the prestigious Malfoy family.  _Maybe_ , after all that, we can revisit the idea of trying something, if you're still interested by then."

Malfoy smirked widely at her, looking like he'd just been given the best news he'd heard in weeks. Hell, for all she knew, he had. Everything else in his life had turned to shite, maybe having her agree to consider dating him at a later date was what Draco Malfoy perceived to be a win.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked.

Hermione snorted, shaking her head.

"Not a chance," she informed him.

"You just said…" he began.

"You're still married," Hermione reminded him. "And anyways, I'm meeting with your mother for dinner this evening."

"What? Why?" he frowned.

"We meet every second Wednesday," Hermione shrugged. "We have done since she barged into the maternity ward at the hospital five years ago, trying to buy my silence about Aurelian."

"Certainly worked," he muttered, frowning suddenly and looking bitter.

"I've never accepted a dime from her, thank you very much," Hermione said, scowling at him. "I kept quiet about our secret without monetary incentive."

"For all the good it's done you," he retorted meanly. "I'm going to redden your arse for it one day soon, too."

"You'll do no such thing," Hermione hissed.

"Oh, I will," he informed her, staring her down in a way that kind of made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and reminded her that in the days since he'd been a cowardly brat at school, he'd grown a backbone and faced off against hungry and angry magical creatures on almost a daily basis. He was hardly scared of one five foot witch.

"Get out of my bedroom so I can get dressed, Malfoy," Hermione demanded.

"I could help you get dressed," he suggested, smirking.

"Out!" Hermione hissed.

"Don't be a spoil sport, Granger," he argued.

"I'm not getting naked in front of you," she said.

"Why not?" he frowned. "You've seen me naked plenty of times."

"By coincidence when you almost get yourself killed in the field, not when you're alone in your bedroom, fresh out of the shower. And when it happens, I'm not interested in ravishing you senseless. I'm usually a little too preoccupied trying to stave off your untimely death."

"More evidence that you fancy me," he smirked.

"You're an idiot," Hermione informed him, scowling.

"If I turn my back so you can dress, will you let me tuck you into bed?" he asked, and Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering if he was serious.

"I'm not ready for bed," she informed him.

"You look like you need sleep, love," he argued.

"We've two small boys downstairs who would wreak havoc if we slept now. You saw what they did last time they were left unsupervised."

"A little mess never killed anyone," he shrugged.

"I should feed them," Hermione sighed, turning away and going to the cupboard to fish out some clean, comfortable clothes to lounge about the house in. Part of her thought she ought to go back to work and finish working on her cure, but the rest of her knew she was much too tired to focus, and it could end up being fatal if she made a mistake with the antidote.

"I'll feed them," he said sternly, turning away to let her dress and surprising her when he didn't try to peek even once.

"You want to just putter around my house all day, feeding the kids while I nap?" she asked, frowning at him.

"They're my kids, Granger," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not about to let them starve. And you look terrible. You need sleep."

"Are you  _trying_  to convince me that you'd be good boyfriend material?" Hermione asked, blinking as he turned back when she was dressed before he crossed the room, intent on tucking her into bed.

"Is it working?" he smirked.

Hermione kind of hated him that it was. Shaking her head stubbornly, she turned away, crawling into bed and letting him pull the covers over her. He did a surprisingly good job of tucking her in before he perched on the mattress beside her.

"You're going to fall for me eventually," he informed her arrogantly.

"Not if you act like your usual smug self," she replied.

"Mmmhmmm," he hummed doubtfully, grinning even as he leaned over her, invading her space one more.

"You can't just kiss me goodnight," she said. "It's barely eleven in the morning.

"Granger?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Shut up and let me tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight," he commanded and Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.

Before she could utter a reply, he leaned over and brushed his lips softly over hers, coaxing her into a soft, chaste kiss before he pulled back without even trying to properly snog her. Hermione suspected she really was more exhausted than she'd realised when he smiled gently and kissed her forehead softly as she drifted off.


	22. Chapter 21

Narcissa Malfoy had had a decidedly bad day. All day long she'd been unable to shake her concerns about Lucius's plans and she'd been unable to focus on anything other than her husband's suggestion that she be seen publicly that evening while whatever he planned to have befall Astoria took place. The trouble, she had found whilst attempting to look interested in the gossip of the day that Galina Greengrass had been so intent on dispensing, was that for all that she'd told herself the girl was a trollop, Narcissa had grown used to her daughter-in-law. She wouldn't entirely say she liked her, particularly of late thanks to the amount of fighting she and Draco had been doing, and thanks to the affair she'd been conducting.

But the fact was, that having worked so hard to fix up the two of them in the first place, and having groomed and trained the younger witch to one day take over her role as matriarch of the Malfoy family, somewhere along the way she'd grown somewhat fond of her. That was by no means an endorsement, nor would she say that she shared a relationship with her daughter-in-law the likes of which she shared with Miss Granger, but she  _had_ come to care for her like the daughter she'd never had and listening to the girl's mother blather on excitedly about the prospect of a second grandchild was actually beginning to gnaw at her psyche.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't allow the girl to just be killed off - her existence snuffed out forever. She'd vowed after the war that she would not sit idly by while one more young life was snuffed, out and the idea that Lucius was so intent on doing the snuffing actually rather worried her. Astoria, after all, was a witch that Lucius had approved of until the girl's affair came to light and while he had made some valid points about the girl's potential to expose some of their ventures if she didn't go away quietly, Narcissa couldn't deny that if he was willing to kill off his pureblooded daughter-in-law, he would certainly have no qualms about the mudblood who'd sired his half-blood grandson.

Not only would he risk imprisonment if he was caught, but it was likely that  _if_  he got away with killing Astoria, he would undoubtedly set his eyes on Miss Granger next and that simply could  _not_  be allowed. She couldn't allow him to go through with it.

"Galina?" Narcissa interrupted the other woman and the witch ceased her chatter, obviously a little offended and stunned at her blunt interruption.

"Is something the matter, Narcissa?" Galina asked, frowning at her with concern.

"I think it might be prudent that we check on Astoria today," Narcissa said. "I'm not sure why, but I feel something is amiss."

Galina paled, clearly sensing that the suggestion was a veiled threat.

"I… yes. You're right. Look at us, selfishly sitting here getting our nails done when my poor daughter is suffering in that awful hospital room," Galina gushed, glaring at the nail-artists who sensed their impatience and used magic to complete the job as quickly as possible.

Narcissa paid in a hurry before stalking out of the nail-bar and offering her arm to her son's mother-in-law. Galina accepted, and Narcissa Disapparated the two of them.

"Galina?" Narcissa asked when they reached the hospital and let themselves into Astoria's room only to find the witch peacefully sleeping for perhaps the first time in days.

"What is it, Cissy?" Galina asked, smoothing he fingers through her daughter's hair and whispering charms to make it look less lacklustre and stringy.

"Are you aware that Astoria has been conducting an affair with Adrian Pucey?" Narcissa asked, cutting straight to the point.

Galina stopped, turning toward her looking scandalised.

"You dare insinuate that my daughter would…" Galina began, her eyes narrowed to slits for the suggestion though she stopped abruptly when she remembered just who she was speaking to as Narcissa raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"She  _has_  been conducting an affair. I've the results of a paternity test to confirm that the child she carries is  _not_  Draco's progeny," Narcissa informed the witch.

"And just when might you have talked her into taking such a test?" Galina demanded.

"When she was inebriated thanks to this illness and agreed to all testing the hospital had to conduct," Narcissa replied evenly. "Do  _try_  to contain your idiocy for a few minutes, Galina. After all, Gerardo is not here. You need not feign foolishness on my account. I  _know_  that your daughters didn't get their brains from your husband."

Galina narrowed her eyes, clearly wrong-footed by Narcissa's out of character approach to the topic.

"You have proof, then?" she confirmed, the simper leaving her tone in favour of a cool and collected manner that would've unnerved lesser witches. "You have proof of the affair?"

"You knew, then?" Narcissa asked.

Galina laughed coolly. "I've known from the beginning. It was a mistake to have ever encouraged our children to marry. Draco would've been better suited with Daphne than Astoria. Unlike my youngest, my eldest is not a delicate and needy little flower who craves attention or affection at every turn. I tried to insist that you allow Draco and Daphne to marry, but you refused. You insisted that it had to be Astoria. And she did her duty and she married him, no matter her continued love of Adrian. So, yes. I knew."

Narcissa nodded, surprised to find that she wasn't angry with the other witch for keeping the affair a secret or for allowing the girl to disrespect Draco in such a manner, though it was clear that Galina was defensive and expected anger.

"Draco means to divorce her," Narcissa informed Galina coolly.

"He can't!" Galina said. "She's pregnant, for pity's sake!"

"Pregnant with Adrian's child, not Draco's. I confess, his intent to divorce her rather than simply having her killed surprised me, but it  _is_  his intent to do so. I've even read the divorce contract. He means to give her a fair settlement, and to allow her frequent custody of Scorpius, though the split of custody will fall in our favour."

"You can't just… take my grandson from me!" Galina hissed, looking horrified.

"I have no intention of that," Narcissa replied. "Read it for yourself, if you wish. And then have your foolish daughter sign it before anything more drastic must take place to handle the problem."

"You're blackmailing her?" Galina demanded.

"Blackmail is such an ugly word," Narcissa sniffed, clucking her tongue. "Think of it as the Malfoy family making a very generous offer to allow her to live out the remainder of her life in riches, and to allow her intermittent custody of her firstborn son while being permitted to raise her second child in peace. She will want for nothing, and she will be free to pursue this continued affair with Pucey – unless his wife finds out."

"And if she doesn't sign the papers you'll have her killed, is that it?" Galina snapped. "Not exactly a square deal."

"By matrimonial contract, which I'll remind you your daughter signed only  _after_  you approved it, as she has been found conducting extra-marital affairs, she is  _entitled_  to nothing. Draco is being very generous in his offer that she quietly divorce him – something I'll remind you has  _never_  before taken place in the long history of the Malfoy bloodline. He has offered her more money than she and the child could ever spend and asks only that she not make a fuss, that she agrees to split custody of Scorpius wherein  _we_  have the higher percentage of custody, and he has offered her the chance of a fresh start with the man she loves, rather than a man she never should've married."

" _You_  arranged the marriage, Narcissa!" Galina hissed.

"And  _you_  pushed for it like the no-good gold-digging little vixen you've been since Hogwarts. I allowed it because Draco needed to make a good pureblood match and because I hoped the two would one day come to care for one another. Obviously, that has not been the result, and as such I believe we owe it to our children to allow them both a fresh start. Don't you?"

"Why?" a croaky voice asked from behind them and Narcissa turned to find they hard disturbed Astoria, wrenching her from slumber.

"Why what, dear?" Narcissa asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"Why, all of a sudden, is Draco allowing or even entertaining the idea of a divorce?" Astoria wanted to know. "He's confessed that as early as a few weeks ago, he'd have looked the other way and let Lucius arrange my assassination. Now he wants to give me partial custody, and a vault full of money as long as I go quietly. I want to know why? What changed that he's suddenly so concerned with the idea of me being able to see my son?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

"Perhaps he's aware of the psychological damage it would cause to rob Scorpius of his mother," Narcissa offered coolly, giving nothing away.

"Perhaps he's conducting an affair, too, and his little mistress is pregnant, too," Astoria retorted. "I'm not an idiot, Narcissa. If Draco's actually willing to stand up to Lucius on my account it's because he's grown a conscience over another witch."

"He has no other witch," Narcissa replied.

"Except Granger," Astoria rolled her eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa demanded, drawing back in shock.

"Oh, don't pretend you're not aware of their… fraternisation, Narcissa," Astoria said bitterly. "I've known for years that he and Granger have  _something_  going on between them. I don't know what, and no matter how many times I tried to catch him in the act of conducting an affair with the woman, I never managed it, but we all know that he and Granger are more than just colleagues."

"Miss Granger is…" Narcissa began, but Astoria cut her off.

"Is the mother of Draco's eldest son," Astoria inserted bitterly, glaring at Narcissa across the room, just daring her to deny it.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa demanded again, horrified by the utter certainty in the other woman's voice.

Astoria's lips pulled back from her teeth, though it looked more like a grimace than a smile.

"I've seen the boy, Narcissa," Astoria said. "Do you think I haven't stared at my own son searching for some  _hint_  that he's got a little of me in him, long enough to recognise what Draco Malfoy's progeny looks like? The minute I laid eyes on that boy, I knew he was Draco's."

"You're suggesting Draco sired another child?" Galina asked. "With a mudblood? This is a scandal! I won't stand for it. That boy is trying to shunt my pregnant and ill daughter out of his life because he's been conducting an affair of his own and doesn't want to pay half his fortune to us!"

Narcissa's eyes were narrowed to slits, and she almost jumped when Astoria actually rolled her eyes.

"Mother, do try to use your head," Astoria snapped. "Granger's son is… what? Five years old? Close to six? At the time the boy was conceived, Draco and I weren't married. We probably weren't even formally engaged. And as I said, I've invested a good deal of effort into catching him with that interfering little mudblood bitch, but the closest I ever came to any evidence of an affair was the time she ripped his clothes off him to heal him after one of his confounded accidents with the bloody beasts he chases after."

Narcissa's eyes widened in shock.

"What is it that you think you know, Astoria?" Narcissa asked.

"I know you've been meeting with Hermione Granger every fortnight for a your 'bookclub', and have done so for years," Astoria replied evenly. "When you refused to invite me along to your bookclub meetings, and when I spotted Aurelian, I realised that you were aware of your other grandchild. I know you make donations into her vault – without her knowledge – and that Lucius has no idea of the boy's existence, let alone his relationship to all of you."

"Is that so?" Narcissa asked, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her daughter-in-law.

"You didn't actually think I would engage in a torrid affair with an old boyfriend  _without_  finding out where all the Malfoy's skeletons are hiding in the event that blackmail became necessary, did you?" Astoria scoffed cruelly, looking very much like she thought Narcissa to be a bit dense if she'd imagined that.

"You had better hope that's a lie, little girl," Narcissa said, her voice low and cruel and positively brimming with restrained fury.

Astoria returned her cold gaze for a long minute of silence punctuated by the beeping and humming of the monitoring charms on her person. Narcissa glared, thinking very much about hexing the little bitch herself.

"Mother?" Astoria asked, looking toward the woman.

Galina moved in her daughter's direction and Narcissa looked on in shock when Astoria whipped her wand from under her pillow and hit her mother with a Stunning spell, causing her to topple into a chair by the bed, leaving them two of them essentially alone.

"Now," Astoria said, tucking the wand away once more before flicking her hair off one shoulder and meeting Narcissa's gaze. "Tell me why Draco suddenly cares if I live or die, and why he wants to let me continue to see Scorpius. Tell me why he's offering divorce, rather than death. Is it because of Aurelian?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, uncertain she should speak.

Astoria sighed, pulling her wand once more and summoning a scroll of parchment from the small set of drawers by the bed. A quill whizzed into her hand and Astoria unfurled the paper, scrawling something on the bottom of it before holding it out toward Narcissa.

"What is this?" Narcissa demanded.

"The divorce papers Horatio drew up," Astoria said. "I'll give you a signed copy if you'll tell me why Draco's offering divorce."

Narcissa stalked closer and snatched hold of the parchment to see that it truly was the divorce papers and that she'd signed her legal and binding signature across the bottom.

"Why does it matter why Draco is suggesting divorce, Astoria?" Narcissa asked of her soon-to-be ex-daughter-in-law.

"Because he showed up here calling me 'Tori', which he hasn't done since we were teenagers and he actually showed a hint of emotion in my presence," Astoria said. "Draco  _never_  shows emotion. He's never nice to me. He climbed onto this very bed and kissed me and cuddled me even though he has every right to be angry enough to murder me after what I did. So, I want to know why. Was it because of Aurelian?"

Narcissa sighed, rolling up the parchment and lowering herself to perch on the edge of Astoria's bed.

"Yes," she admitted.

"He didn't know until recently that Aurelian was his son, did he?" Astoria confirmed.

Narcissa shook his head. "I hoped to keep it a secret when I learned of the boy's existence, lest it get out and Draco be expected to marry a muggleborn."

"Lest he find out that Granger was the mother of his children and he be handed unquestionable permission to marry Granger instead of me," Astoria corrected her. "I'm not a fool, Cissy. I've known he had a thing for her since we were at Hogwarts. I knew when he went into the position as a Hunter at Ministry in her department. If he'd found out he'd sired a child with her, he'd have been able to marry her without Lucius's permission because it would be considered the right thing to do to take responsibility for the child."

Narcissa nodded. "Granger wanted nothing from us, and demanded that I not tell Draco, either."

"Which is why you put money in her vault without her knowledge," Astoria nodded. "She didn't want to let you buy her silence and she's not in the slightest in love with Draco."

"No," Narcissa chuckled a little. "She's not and I don't think she ever has been. Their encounter was born of too much alcohol, and Aurelian is the result."

"How did Draco find out?" Astoria wanted to know.

"Aurelian invaded her office the same day that you were caught arguing with Pucey and leaving his office with your skirt askew," Narcissa replied.

Astoria had the decency to blush.

"I'll bet he was furious when he found out," Astoria said, her smile a little bitter and her eye filling with tears. "I've listened to the way the two of them fight at work. I know he let's her see an out of control side of him he's never shared with me."

"She antagonizes him into losing his temper often, and he, her," Narcissa agreed.

"You mean to fix them up when I'm out of the way," Astoria said, looking like she was certain of that fact.

"You imagine Miss Granger would cooperate with such a plot?" Narcissa asked, raising one sceptic eyebrow.

Astoria laughed. "No, not really," she admitted. "She's stubborn, that one. Come to think of it, stubborn as he is, Draco might resist on principle, too. After all, he's spent so long denying his interest in the woman that it'll be a miracle if he actually confronts his own emotions about something."

Narcissa nodded, eyeing her daughter-in-law guardedly for a moment and wondering what had gotten into her that she seemed so calm and so unperturbed by the knowledge of Draco's other child.

"You aren't angry to learn of Draco's second son?" she asked quietly, frowning at the girl and wondering that if she'd always been this level-headed, whether things between her and Draco might not have fallen to bits as they had.

Astoria sighed.

"I was," she admitted. "When I finally realised for sure that Aurelian was his son, I reacted much the same way as Mother. I flipped out thinking he'd had an affair, and was outraged to know that my son has a sibling I didn't conceive or approve of. But then I remembered that I'm pregnant with a child Draco didn't conceive or approve of, and I realised I didn't have much of a leg to stand on. Can't call him a no-good bastard-siring git when I'm carrying a bastard of my own, now can I?"

"Has Pucey made any attempts to contact you about the child?" Narcissa asked, wondering if things might really be so simple as Astoria going away to raise her baby and divorce Draco without a fuss.

Astoria sighed, again, looking forlorn.

"With me in the hospital and photographers snapping pictures of Draco and I curled up together?" she asked doubtfully. "Not to mention his wife's been suspicious of the two of us for some time. He can hardly just pop in for a visit."

"What do you plan to do about her?" Narcissa wanted to know, referring to Pucey's wife.

"What can I do? Astoria asked. "I married Draco and Adrian married Magdelena. There's nothing for it. Draco and I might manage to divorce amicably enough – all things considered, but I believe that Magdelena loves Adrian. She won't let him go without a fight."

Narcissa nodded, knowing that she'd never let Lucius go without a fight, even if the man were in love with someone else. Not that he ever would be, but she understood the other woman's urge to hang onto her husband.

"Well," Narcissa said. "Are you going to continue to allow other people to dictate how you ought to live your life, or are you going to fight for what you want?"

Astoria raised her eyebrows in surprise at Narcissa's words and the elder witch sighed out a slow breath, wondering if maybe Lucius's worrying and plotting really had all been for nothing. Maybe the girl was mature enough to see that she and Draco weren't well matched, and that the baby she carried wasn't her husband's, and maybe she would divorce him without a fuss. Well, she'd signed the papers, so Draco would legally be free of her in short order.

Before she could open her mouth and ask what the girl intended to do about all the skeletons she'd supposedly located in the Malfoy family wardrobe, the other woman spoke first.

"Is Lucius still going to try and kill me?" Astoria asked eventually, sighing as she leaned back against the pillows.

"Probably," Narcissa admitted. "After all, you  _have_  confessed to knowing where our skeletons live."

"Not many of them," Astoria said, looking annoyed. "Lucius is paranoid to a fault. I only managed to catch you in the mess with Granger because I started stalking you with the aid of an invisibility cloak."

"Did it matter so much to you that I wasn't inviting you along to my book-club?" Narcissa asked, raising her eyebrows.

Astoria fixed her a droll stare.

"You blatantly refused to invite me along, and you wouldn't even tell me who else attended. When I asked around about it, a few of the other ladies were put out that they weren't involved either and I've never been one to allow my curiosity to simply fester. It had to be sated. So, I followed you," Astoria admitted, shrugging her shoulders and not looking a mite repentant.

Narcissa huffed, knowing she couldn't rightly be annoyed with the girl when she'd been the one to insist on always trusting her gut when it came to finding out other people's secrets.

"So, you're willing to just sign the divorce contract and walk away from your marriage to Draco?" Narcissa asked, rather than commenting on the girl's snooping ways.

"My only other option is death, so… I have no choice," Astoria said and Narcissa detected a hint of bitterness from her.

"You never actually loved Draco, so I don't know why you sound annoyed about all this."

"Because even with the settlement and the custody arrangement, I'm still going to be the first witch who married and then divorced a Malfoy," Astoria said. "And because part of me wants to fight tooth and nail, and to force him to be with me and force him to raise this child with me since I might not have shagged around on him if he'd just open up with me more. Not to mention that Adrain can hardly just up and divorce his wife and run away with me. I'll hardly do well as a single, pregnant witch cast off by the Malfoys, now will I?"

Narcissa sighed. "No, I don't exepct you will for a little while. And unfortunately, Astoria, Draco very rarely opens up with anyone. He hasn't done since he was a boy. Not with me, in any case, and any attempts to open up to his father were usually met with reminders of what was proper rather than encouragement of what he wanted."

"He opens up with Granger," Astoria pointed out, looking rather like she was sucking on a lemon as she said so.

"He yells at Granger, and she yells back. It would be a mistake to confuse that for being open and honest and in any kind of healthy relationship. He might let her see a side of him that loses his temper, or swears or curses or is a bit less refined than a Malfoy ought to be, but it would be incorrect to assume they are amicable or even friendly. Most of the time they quarrel like bitter enemies."

"We'll see how long that lasts with me out of the picture," Astoria muttered.

"He never cheated on you, you know?" Narcissa said quietly. "There was a clause in the marriage contract that stated that, were he to sleep around with Granger, it wouldn't violate your matrimony. He never made use of it. He's been faithful to you throughout the years of your marriage, even despite his aloofness."

Astoria looked like that was the last thing she wanted to hear, an expression of anger and grief and guilt passing over her features before she closed her eyes, trying to prevent the tear that trickled down her cheek from escaping.

"And won't the papers just  _love_  that?" Astoria muttered. "I've signed the agreement not to sell the story or to blab family secrets or make a fuss, but you do realise this will still take the media by storm, don't you? First Malfoy divorce in history? And with two secret love-children thrown in? Scandalous affairs, and star-crossed lovers gone terribly wrong? The tabloid will lap this up."

"I'm prepared for that," Narcissa nodded.

Astoria looked rather like she doubted it, and from her place on the wall, hidden behind the curtain and listening to every juicy word, a certain beetle rather doubted it, too.


	23. Chapter 22

Draco Malfoy discovered rather abruptly that being a single parent was hardly going to be a walk in the park, and he frowned as he watched Aurelian and Scorpius gobbling down huge bowls of ice-cream that Della the house elf had informed him they were most definitely  _not_  supposed to be eating for a lunch time meal. Unfortunately, both small boys were rather crafty. Scorpius had managed to distract him with attempts to explain the story of the muggle film they were watching whilst Aurelian served them both up some ice-cream that was apparently only supposed to be an after dinner treat when the elder of his two sons had been particularly well behaved.

They'd tricked him and now they were both scarfing down ice-cream fast enough that it was likely to make them sick and all he could do was watch. Admittedly, part of him rather wanted them to learn the hard way that eating that much ice cream was going to make them ill, and he had chided them and insisted they  _not_  eat it, but they were mischievous and refused his directives. Draco was willing to let karma smack them both upside the head, and he hadn't bothered arguing further or letting them tantrum – preferring to let them find out the hard way. They were boys, after all, and he knew that no matter how many times he'd been told as a boy that something was a bad idea, he hadn't believed anyone until he tried it and fucked himself up in some way that made him think twice about doing it ever again.

They could eat it, and they  _would_  end up feeling sick, and then he would be vindicated. He was also finding that in the time since Della had become Granger's elf, the little thing had grown rather mouthy, and he'd been told off at length about the amount of sugar in ice cream and the effect it would have on a child's teeth, in addition to being lectured about what consisted a healthy meal choice for two small boys. All of which had taken place while the elf had fixed a lunch big enough to feed an army – much of which had been ignored by the ice-cream fiends. He doubted Granger would be impressed when she awoke to find the children feeling sick, possibly vomiting and at the very least crying or groaning and grumbling of sore tummies, but he'd deal with that later.

He ought to be getting to the hospital to check on Astoria and to make sure she'd signed the papers and that his Father wasn't going to try something regardless of their bargain, but he could hardly leave two naughty children under the age of five, unsupervised. Even with Granger asleep upstairs, they needed to be watched and while he knew the elf could do it – and probably better than Draco could, himself - he thought it was his duty to watch over the two children until Granger woke up, at the very least. Especially since he was certain that vomit was impending from one or both of them in short order.

Shaking his head as he watched the two little brats gobble it down as fast as they could spoon it into their mouths – trading grins and noises of delight as they did so that made him rather reminiscent of his days with Crabbe and Goyle for his cronies – Draco kept one eye on his children and the other on the film they were watching. He didn't completely understand it, having missed the beginning while he'd been tucking Granger into bed, and then having missed more of it when Scorpius attempted to explain it to him, before missing even more of it arguing with the children, and then with the elf about ice-cream consumption, Draco mostly was trying to figure out the plot in addition to laughing at some of the jokes.

He watched, and he waited as the boys polished off their bowls of ice-cream – which Della whisked away to wash when they were done with them. Draco supposed it made him rather a bad parent when, a short time later when Scorpius and Aurelian both began to contort themselves into balls, clutching their stomachs and complaining that they didn't feel well, he smirked and rather snidely sneered.

"I told you so."

"Daddy, I feel sick," Scorpius complained.

"Go to the loo if you're going to vomit," Draco said, rather unsympathetically.

Scorpius looked upset before he got up and toddled away down the hall. Aurelian, clearly having inherited his mother's stubborn streak, refused to complain out loud, no matter the way he twisted himself into a ball and looked rather like he wanted to follow his brother down the hallway. He stubbornly remained on the couch, and Draco reckoned that in short order the boy was going to puke all over the couch or all over the carpet thanks to his thrice-cursed stubbornness, but he didn't say a word.

They would learn the hard way.

"Master Draco, young Master Scorpius is unwell," Della announced, padding into the room.

"I told him he would be, Della," Draco replied to the elf. "Has he made a terrible mess?"

"I gave him a bucket," Della said, looking resigned and rather like she disapproved his teaching methods. "Mistress will not be happy with you for letting the boys eat themselves sick, Master Draco."

"Mistress shouldn't keep ice-cream in the house where naughty little boys can get it, then," Draco retorted. "And you, Aurelian? What do you have to say for yourself? You snuck off to fix yourself and your brother some ice-cream without my knowledge and you ignored my warnings. Are you sorry?"

"It was tasty," Aurelian replied stubbornly, and Draco narrowed his eyes.

"That's stubborn-streak will get you in a world of trouble one day, son," Draco warned the boy. "If you vomit on your mother's couch she'll take it out of your hide, lad."

Aurelian paled at the mention of his mother and the retribution he would likely face when she awoke before he groaned and lurched off the couch, running down the hall and into the bathroom. The sound of vomiting and groaning followed and despite knowing both his children were suffering, Draco Malfoy felt smugly vindicated and revelled in that fact for a long moment before following his sons down the hall, intent on being a good parent and making sure they knew they weren't going to die, no matter how much they currently felt like it.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Rita Skeeter waited until Narcissa Malfoy left the hospital room before she transformed from her beetle Animagus form into her usual self, straightening her robes and adjusting her glasses upon her nose before turning to face the tricky little witch who'd hired her. When she'd received an owl yesterday evening suggesting that a very juicy story about the richest and most secret-embroiled family in the magical world might be shared, she'd leapt at the chance. She'd heard a good many secrets here today, not the least of which was the Malfoys intent to murder their own daughter-in-law unless she gave in to their blackmail and quietly accepted a divorce settlement.

What was more, she'd heard scandal galore centring on the unwell witch in the bed, in addition to secrets of a torrid affair featuring young Mr Pucey, a secret love-child, scandalous pregnancies, and enough material to write a bloody novel about it if she really wanted to. This would be just the story her career needed to boost her back into the spotlight. Since the war, and Granger's gag-order, she'd struggled somewhat to land a story as big and as exciting as this one and Rita's head was already spinning with the juicy embellishments and swimming with scandalous details.

"I told you it would be worth your time," Astoria Malfoy informed her smugly, smirking.

Rita traced her eyes over the little witch, realising that while the girl clearly thought herself clever for finding a way around the silence-agreement of her divorce contract, she really had  _no_  idea just what kind of horror she'd opened herself up for.

"It would seem that the Malfoy family is more deeply entrenched in scandal than I thought," Rita said.

"You'll share every detail, won't you?" Astoria asked, and Rita suspected from the way the girl recoiled just a little bit when a vicious smile curled over Rita's crimson lips that she was beginning to realise she'd made rather an egregious error. "I mean about Draco, and Granger, and the bastard love-child they share. And about Lucius and his dealings, and their blackmail and threats."

Rita's smiled widened.

"Don't worry, dear," Rita said. "I'm sure that every sordid detail will eventually come to light."

And it would. But Rita knew she was going to have to approach this  _very_  delicately. If there was one thing she would  _not_  risk, it was antagonizing Hermione Jean Granger. Rita had been building a case file on the witch since she'd been just a teenager, and she knew more secrets about the little bitch than probably the girl even realised. Unfortunately, one of those secrets was that the wretched little tramp wasn't afraid in the slightest to engage in a little blackmail and to offer up death threats of her own. In that respect, Rita wasn't a bit surprised to find Miss Granger in bed with the Malfoys.

Rita wasn't about to risk ending up back in a jar and being carried around in a swotty little bitch's bag, threatened every hour. She wasn't about to leave herself open to be blackmailed again, and no matter the threat of being exposed for an illegal Animagus, Rita had refused to register herself and alleviate that weapon from Granger's ink-stained fingers. The danger was too great. She didn't need it on record that she could turn into a wretched little beetle, and she most certainly didn't need to tip off her victims… er, featured clients… just how it was that she managed to get wind of all their dirty laundry. Like Granger, they might begin to notice a beetle in their vicinity, and they might look into it. The last thing she wanted was people catching on to her trick, no matter Granger's blackmail.

No, Rita knew that if she wanted to get away with sharing every detail of this juicy tale, she would have to leave Miss Granger and her son very far clear of the mud. No matter her personal wish to crucify the little bitch, Rita had learned that while she was willing to destroy lives with her quill, she didn't have the bollocks to go against a witch not only capable but  _willing_  to kill her off and make it look like an accident. Merlin's beard, Hermione Granger could kill her, and no one would even  _think_  to go looking for her body. The bitch was clever enough to make it look an accident, or to simply make it look like she'd packed her things and relocated.

Crafty, that one. Crafty and cruel and a right bloody bitch, but not to be trifled with. No, if she wanted to scrawl out the next big story of her career, she was going to have to leave Granger out of it. At least she would until she thought of a way to draft something up that couldn't be traced back to one, Rita Skeeter, because Granger knew her address, knew her secrets, and had made very well sure over the years to remind Rita that no matter what she did or how she tried to get around the gag-deal, Hermione would always find out.

Rita  _hated_  the younger witch.

"What are you going to do?" Astoria asked, frowning at her worriedly when she realised that she wasn't nearly in quite so secure a position as she'd imagined herself when she'd invited Rita in for an interview.

Rita smiled.

"Why, I'm going to report on the gossip of the day Ms Greengrass," Rita said, saccharine.

The address alone seemed enough to tip Astoria off that Rita had less than honourable intentions. If the girl really thought she was going to spin a tale of a mistreated little rich house-wife who'd been blackmailed and threatened into divorce  _without_  mentioning the woman's affair and the bastard child of her lover growing in her womb, and without dragging Adrian Pucey into this mess, she was barmy.

"You're going to share their threats? The blackmail? Granger's involvement in this mess?" Astoria confirmed.

Rita supposed that, were she a less pragmatic soul, she'd have found a kindred spirit in the young woman sitting there in the hospital bed. It was clear they shared an intense hatred for Hermione Granger, but unfortunately Rita had just a bit too much to lose and she was more than willing to use this silly little fool as the stepping stone that would bring her that much closer to unravelling Granger's perfect little world.

"I'm sure every detail will come out, dear. Don't fret. The world will soon know all about how uncivilized the Malfoy family is behind closed doors. And they'll have you to thank, won't they?" Rita said.

"You can't tell them I told you," Astoria protested. "We had a deal."

"I never reveal my sources, Miss Greengrass," Rita smirked. "Now then, I just need one more thing from you before I go, if you don't mind?"

Astoria narrowed her eyes suspiciously even as Rita pulled her wand.

" _Obliviate."_

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Antonin Dolohov narrowed his eyes from his spot in the corner of the room where he stood Disillusioned as he watched the ordeal of Astoria Greengrass play out. He'd intended to murder her following Narcissa's departure. With the girl's mother still passed out in the chair by the bed, it would look a treat to have a witness be able to say Narcissa was the last woman who'd seen Greengrass alive.

He stayed his wand when a shimmer of magic caught his eyes before Rita Skeeter appeared in their midst. Antonin shook his head to himself, smirking a little and wondering if the girl was really so stupid as to admit to having fucked around during her marriage in front of a reporter, whilst believing the vile bitch  _wouldn't_  drag her torrid affair through the mud. Antonin almost couldn't wait to read tomorrow's paper, just to see the amount of shit flung at the Malfoys following this.

Unfortunately, it complicated matters not only because Narcissa got away unscathed and unimplicated in a murder he could hardly commit with the reporter in the room. But also because if Skeeter was allowed to publish that article mentioning that Lucius had hired someone to kill Astoria off, it would take two seconds flat for Lucius to roll on him and point everyone in his direction should the girl turn up dead.

"Well, fuck," he muttered under his breath when Greengrass was left in her bed, blinking confusedly as Skeeter left the room after wiping her memory.

He could kill her now, but it might have repercussions when Skeeter's article came out. And if he didn't kill her soon, he would violate his agreement with Lucius and might very well drop dead himself. He hadn't survived that stinking pit of a dungeon for seven bloody years just to let one little vow off him, now.

Antonin stepped out from behind the door and crossed the room, still disillusioned. He leaned over the pretty little pregnant witch before pulling his wand and tracing it over her midriff, muttering spells.

"Hello, my pretty," he muttered when tendrils of black magic rose to the surface of her skin, pulsing wickedly beneath her pale flesh.

He'd been right, then. The Fairy virus had infected the human population. Left alone, untreated and still pregnant, this witch wouldn't even  _need_  his help to die. Antonin debated the matter silently for a long moment, wondering what to do. He could kill her quietly and leave everyone to wonder at her death before he disappeared. He could kidnap the little bitch, if he wanted. Lucius, after all, hadn't specified that she had to  _die_ , only that she had to be taken far away from sight and mind where she couldn't expose Lucius's precious secrets and where she was unable to make a fuss.

Antonin smirked slowly as he traced his eyes over her pretty features when she blinked dazedly at him. Perhaps that would be just the ticket. He could kidnap her and do as he liked with this little witch, and no one would be any the wiser. What was more, both Narcissa  _and_  Skeeter would eventually be implicated in her disappearance and Antonin would have fulfilled the vow he'd made to Malfoy. Even more exciting, this little witch had information about young Draco's other family – and Antonin was  _sure_  he'd heard the named Granger bandied about.

Oh, if that jumped-up little bitch who'd survived his curse ten years ago was involved the with Malfoys and he could go after her  _and_  the others, Antonin might begin to think that Christmas had come early. Chuckling to himself, Antonin yanked the tubes and cords out of the dazed witch on the bed before scooping his arms under her and Disapparating from the hospital with a sharp crack.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione Granger woke feeling well rested and snug, curled in her bed and wondering what time it was. Late afternoon sunshine filtered in through the window around the edges of the curtain and she stretched slowly, wondering how she'd managed such a restful sleep. She was sure she hadn't slept so well in years, actually, and she sighed as she relaxed against the pillows once more, blinking at the ceiling and supposing she ought to get up.

The soft sound of the telly could be heard emitting from downstairs and Hermione wondered what time it was and whether or not Malfoy was still in her house, watching the boys. She hoped so, not liking the idea of the children being left unsupervised considering they had a habit of getting in mischief when they were together. She also hoped he was still around, so she could give him a piece of her mind.

She'd been too exhausted to bother fighting with him about Aurelian wanting to call him "Daddy" and she'd let him tuck her in and let him argue his case for the idea of them becoming something once he was divorced, and Hermione needed to set him straight. Sighing and flinging the covers off herself, Hermione rose from the bed and dressed quickly in jeans and an oversized jumper. She checked the time, paling to recall that Narcissa would be stopping by shortly for their fortnightly catch-up. The last thing she needed was that woman interfering and trying to convince her to date Draco, too.

When she made her way downstairs, Hermione narrowed her eyes on the telly, noticing that though it was on, neither Aurelian, Scorpius, or Draco were in sight. Before she could go looking for them – having learned the hard way over the years that silence when one lived with a small boy was  _never_  a good sign – a shout of glee came from the garden and Hermione hurried to the window.

Her eyes widened when she spotted Aurelian, Scorpius and Draco all zooming across the backyard aboard broomsticks. Malfoy was chuckling while Aurelian rode his small toy broom – which didn't go more than five feet from the ground. Scorpius was clinging to a toddler sized broom that she was sure only flew at three feet from the ground – it looked like one Aurelian had outgrown. She shook her head, watching the three of them for a long moment and it occurred to her when Aurelian slipped off his broom and began to fall, that she might be in real trouble here. Draco dove down – having been hovering almost level with his eldest son, and he caught the boy before he could hit the ground.

Aurelian was grinning from ear to ear and she watched as Draco helped Aurelian back onto his broomstick before he slowly and patiently explained to the youngster how best to hold on and how to better steer and grip the apparatus. Hermione watched as her son nodded, grinning at the man who'd sired him and looking positively gleeful to have someone interested in flying to teach him how to do it. Harry had showed him a few times, and Aurelian was actually a fair flyer, but Hermione could tell that her son had decided Draco was his father – regardless of his correctness in thinking so – and that he was going to hang on every word Malfoy said until he learned how to be just like him.

"I need a cup of tea," Hermione muttered to herself, shaking her head and moving in the direction of the kitchen.

She really didn't want to be the big mean Mum who told the boy he couldn't just start calling his father "daddy" and she didn't want to have to scold them all and remind them that this couldn't be. She didn't want to sabotage Malfoy's relationship with his son, especially since he seemed genuinely interested in forming one with the boy now that he knew they were related.

But she also couldn't forget that she and Narcissa had made a bargain, and that when Lucius found out, he was going to be furious, and that the whole wizarding world would be in an uproar when they learned that Draco Malfoy had sired Hermione Granger's son. She could see the headlines now, no doubt crafted by the likes of Skeeter, and Hermione made a mental note to check in on the vicious beetle and to threaten her again that if the bitch published one word Hermione didn't like, she'd make sure the woman was never heard from again.

Fixing herself a cup of tea and massaging the side of her neck one-handed where she'd kinked her neck just a bit during her nap, Hermione tried to think through the best way to proceed with things. Her life was a shambles, she needed to be getting back to the Ministry and working on the cure to the fairy-virus so she could administer it to the pregnant witches within their community before any of them started miscarrying, and she needed to figure out just what in the hell she was supposed to do about Draco Malfoy and the fact that he'd insinuated that he fancied her.

She didn't know what to do with that information. She'd been working with him for years and throughout that time she'd never thought herself to be romantically interested in him. She might've passingly noticed a time or two if he looked handsome, and okay, maybe she'd perved once or twice when she'd had to heal parts of him after some creature-encounter that left him poisoned, bleeding, or otherwise injured. Maybe she'd even wished a time or two that she could tell Malfoy all about Aurelian and the great new thing he did every other day as he grew. But she'd never thought to herself that she wanted to shag him again, or that she didn't like his wife because she was jealous, or that she wished she was in Astoria's place.

She'd been able to recognise that while he certainly had his good points, Draco Malfoy was deeply flawed, as she was sure she was, herself. She didn't know what to do in the face of him wanting to try things on for size with her and she didn't know what to do about the fact that he  _was_  Aurelian's father. Having Harry know of Aurelian's paternity without having a cow about it, and having Malfoy know – no matter his residual anger – made things all the more complicated because now she was second guessing her choices.

She couldn't deny that when he'd shagged her in her office a few days ago, she'd enjoyed it. Maybe it was just because she hadn't been laid in months, or maybe it was because she was beginning to feel  _something_  for the arrogant bastard, but the fact was she'd enjoyed it. Just as she'd enjoyed it when he'd protected her from the Jabberwalkie by wrapping himself around her in her lab, and just as she'd liked waking up in bed with him after he'd found out about Aurey. She couldn't deny that she was growing to enjoy his touch, and it had to be said that he was right about them practically being work-married. She'd never shouted at anyone quite the way she shouted at Draco and she could recall a few times when the two of them had got along swimmingly whilst in the workplace, if she really put some thought into it.

What was more, he was her son's father, he was clearly interested in pursuing something with her, even if only for the sake of their son, and he was arrogant and pushy enough to get his way unless she outright told him to go jump in a lake or hexed him stupid. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hemione lifted her tea cup to her lips, slurping up the sweet, caffeinated liquid greedily and hoping it might help her think more clearly.

She felt like she hadn't had time to simply sit and  _think_  in months. Merlin, she'd been so consumed with finding a cure for Ginny, and so caught up in the mess revolving around Draco and Aurelian that she hadn't had time to just stop and examine her own feelings on the matter.

She couldn't just jump into something with the man, no matter that the make-up sex after a fight might prove to be glorious, and she couldn't just discount Aurelian's right to get to know his father. But did she really want to invite Draco Malfoy into her life any deeper than he'd already imbedded himself? She already saw him every day at work, and she already put up with him more often than not thanks to the fact that he couldn't easily work with any of the other researchers in the department thanks to his habit of being a smug, annoying git. Similarly, she couldn't readily work with just any Hunter on the payroll because she had standards and thus far, Draco had proved to be the only one who could even come close to meeting them in the professional sense. And their working together would only make anything outside of a professional relationship that much more complicated.

She wasn't sure she could be dating a colleague without literally wanting to kill him. Every time she'd dated someone in the past, she'd found that one of the best things about having a partner was being able to gripe to them about troubles at work and colleagues who did or said things that annoyed her. She could hardly come home bitching about Draco when he'd be the one she was bitching to, now could she?

"You're thinking too loud," Malfoy said softly from directly by her ear and Hermione almost jumped out of her skin, her eyes popping open in surprise, sloshing her tea and almost dropping her teacup to find him not only in the house, but well within her personal space.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, closing her eyes once more while she set down her teacup and pressed a hand to her suddenly erratic heart.

He gave a low chuckle, clearly amused that he'd managed to sneak up on her and Hermione thought about whacking him for being such a git.

"Where are the boys?" she asked, rather than indulging in violence.

"Back in front of the telly," he said, and Hermione quivered when he trailed the tips of his fingers over the back of her neck as he gathered her hair up and laid it all over one shoulder. "I think I wore them out on the brooms. Well, probably it was a culmination of flying and having both been sick earlier."

"Sick?" Hermione asked, frowning and holding perfectly still when Malfoy pressed up behind her a little closer until she could feel his body heat.

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Sneaky little blighters staged a coup while you were sleeping. Scorp distracted me with babble while Aurelian snuck in here and fixed them both some ice-cream."

"You let them have ice-cream?" Hermione demanded. "Damn it, Malfoy!"

"I don't think they'll be interested in ice-cream again for a while. I lectured them, but they ate it anyway – Aurey inherited your stubborn streak and doesn't take kindly to being lectured by me, I'll have you know. Anyway, they both scoffed themselves on ice-cream, and as I warned would happen, they both got sick after eating so much and they both sobbed their way through apologies for not listening to me when they'd finished vomiting it all back up."

Hermione shook her head, trying to remind herself that he was as much Aurelian's parent as she was, and that he was Scorpius's father while the boy, biologically, was not her responsibility.

"Are you telling me you  _let_  them eat the ice-cream, knowing it would make them sick, and then you rubbed it in when it did, in fact, make them sick?" she demanded in a low voice.

"They're boys, Granger," Draco chuckled, surprising her when he pulled aside the neckline of her jumper a little before he dropped a kiss to the top of her shoulder, making her whole body explode with goose-bumps. "They need to learn things the hard way. Or they do if they're anything like me, anyway."

"You just…" Hermione began, frustrated but she cut herself off, not wanting to shout at him in front of the children.

"They're fine, Hermione," he told her. "They got sick; they learned a valuable lesson about listening to me; Della and I got the mess all cleaned up, and we spent the afternoon learning to fly. They're all tuckered out, won't be long out of bed, and could probably use something for dinner. Did you say you're expecting my mother?"

Hermione sighed, nodding her head and trying to ignore the way he carefully pressed another kiss to the side of her neck. She knew she should stop him. That it was wrong. That he was still married, no matter that his marriage contract permitted him to shag her as much as he wanted without repercussion as long as she agreed. That he was a bloody git. But Merlin, it'd been a long time since anyone touched her like that. Even when she'd shagged him on her desk the other day it had been fast and hard and rough, and Merlin's beard, she'd loved every minute of it, but he hadn't really touched her. Not like this.

"She's usually here around six thirty," Hermione told him.

"Do you and Aurey eat before she comes? I know she doesn't stay for dinner. Father never eats without her."

Hermione nibbled her bottom lip, subconsciously leaning back against him and tilting her head to give him better access to touch her.

"I usually try to feed Aurey, at least," Hermione nodded. "Sometimes there isn't time and we eat while Narcissa is here. Other times we wait until after she leaves."

"Should we have something?" he asked, and Hermione frowned.

"Now you're staying for dinner?" she asked, turning her head to look at him sceptically.

"The kids are hungry," he shrugged. "And need baths. I can clear off when my Mother arrives, if you're so opposed to my presence. I need to go and see Astoria and see if she's signed the divorce papers yet, anyway."

"You don't have to stay to feed and bath the children if you have somewhere to be, Malfoy," Hermione argued.

He rolled his eyes.

"I think you've spent enough time looking after both of my kids by yourself throughout this mess, Granger. Let me help, yeah?"

Hermione blinked at him, realising as she peered into his face whilst still leaning against him that he really meant to make a go of things with her in every sense of the world. He didn't just want to shag her, he wanted to play parent with her and wanted to make sure things were taken care of for her sake and for the sake of their children and she began to think that she was in over her head just a bit.

"You and I need to talk, Malfoy," Hermione said, pulling away from him a little and turning to face him.

"You're about to tell me off, aren't you?" he sighed, letting her go before leaning against the counter.

"You can't just start allowing Aurelian to call you "Daddy" Draco," Hermione said. "I understand that you're his father, but we haven't actually  _told_  Aurey that yet, and aside from your mother and Harry we haven't told anyone else, either. What if someone hears him?"

Malfoy sighed, running a hand through his hair and Hermione watched the way he actually looked thoughtful for a moment before he responded.

"Look, Granger, this is all going to get out, eventually. I know you're worried about my father, and I think you're right to be. But he's hardly going to murder his own grandson. No matter what he says or how he blusters, he's always been one to put family first. He might not like counting you or Aurelian as part of the family, but that's exactly what you are."

"He did like counting Astoria as part of the family, and I'll bet he's still going to try and have her killed, even if she  _does_  sign the divorce papers, Malfoy. He's not a rational person."

"He is, actually. His reasons for wanting to off Astoria have nothing to do with her affair. He just doesn't want the publicity of a divorce trial because he doesn't think she'll go quietly. And he's got too much money tied up in dodgy or illegal dealings to want anyone prying into our financials or looking too hard at our bank vaults. That's all he cares about," Draco told her, shrugging his shoulders.

"You think he's not going to want to sweep Aurey and I under the rug?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"I think that if he tries, my Mother and I are both going to lose our minds at him and he's not that stupid. Mother, in particular, holds the power over him because if he pushes her hard enough, she'll ruin him. When he knows about Aurelian's existence and his relationship to all of us, he'll be upset, but he's hardly going to jump right to murder."

Hermione doubted it. Lucius Malfoy might've learned a thing or two in the war, but she'd be willing to bet that he hadn't learned how not to be a prejudiced twat.

"And if he does?" she asked.

"Then we'll handle it, Granger," Malfoy said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not going to let him hurt you or Aurelian."

"Would you let him hurt Astoria?" Hermione challenged.

"You heard me swear up and down that I wouldn't allow him to just have her killed off," Draco argued, narrowing his eyes on her.

"If you hadn't found out about Aurey, you'd have looked the other way," Hermione accused, certain of that fact.

"If I hadn't found out about Aurey, I'd have only been able to focus on the fact that my wife of four years has been cheating on me and is pregnant to another man. I'd be dwelling on it and stewing in hatred over the disrespect of what they did." Draco argued. "Look, I'm not a saint, Granger. I'd have been hard-pressed not to let my anger rule my emotions. But the fact is I did find out about Aurelian and even though I'm still annoyed and still planning to pay an unfriendly visit to Pucey for being such a twat, I just want to get this shit out of the way. I'm keen to get my divorce handled, and if handling it safely and efficiently means getting in my father's way should he prove irrational, I will. I mean, I throw myself in front of dragons and jabberwalkies all day. What's one old man?"

Before Hermione could reply, Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the kitchen dusting off her dress.

"I wouldn't let your father catch you saying that if I were you, my son," Narcissa said primly. "However, I think it's safe to say that you need not worry about his actions regarding your ex-wife. She's signed this."

Narcissa handed over a scroll of parchment and Hermione watched Draco take it, noting that Narcissa didn't seem surprised to find Draco in her house. Hermione wondered if she was becoming predictable, or if the woman simply knew how her son felt about learning of his first-born. Hermione wondered if Narcissa was aware of Draco's feelings for her, if she was being honest. She wondered if the other woman approved. In truth, she hadn't had a chance to speak with Narcissa plainly about all this since everything had come to light. For all Hermione knew, Narcissa's letter urging her to consider the two of them coming to some agreement was all a ruse for Draco's sake.

"Mother, what is this?" Draco asked, frowning as unrolled the parchment.

"Your divorce papers. They've been signed. I watched Astoria sign them, myself."

Draco frowned at her, looking back down at the papers.

"Mother… how did you get this?" Draco asked, lifting his eyes to his mother once more before narrowing them suspiciously.

Narcissa lifted her chin.

"I had a frank discussion with Astoria this afternoon, that's how."

Draco looked rather like he didn't believe her, and Hermione couldn't entirely say she blamed him for being suspicious. Narcissa was well known for being underhanded.

"Mother, if I find you've… done something… to that silly woman…" Draco began before suddenly the Floo network roared to life and Harry Potter stepped out followed quickly by Minister Shacklebolt.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Kingsley? What's going on?"

For the first time in a long time, Harry and Kingsley didn't take the time to say hello to her. Hermione's eyes widened when Harry strode quickly across the room, his wand raised menacingly.

"Narcissa Malfoy, you're under arrest for the disappearance of Astoria Malfoy."


	24. Chapter 23

"Under arrest?" Narcissa asked, looking over at Harry blankly.

"Disappearance?" Draco asked. "Astoria's missing?"

"Don't pretend you're not aware of the situation, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "Narcissa, I'm going to have to ask you to surrender your wand. I need to take you into police custody."

"Whatever for?" Narcissa asked, looking genuinely baffled even as she fished her wand from the pocket of her dress and handed it to Harry hilt-first. "I've done nothing wrong. If my daughter-in-law is missing, I certainly wasn't behind her disappearance."

"We have reports that you were the last one to see her, Mrs Malfoy," Harry said, fishing his goblin-made handcuffs from his belt and reaching for Narcissa's wrists.

"Are the cuffs really necessary, Harry?" Hermione asked, stepping forward to intervene when Narcissa scowled at the sight of the shackles. "I know you're only trying to do your job, but I very much doubt Narcissa has had anything to do with Astoria going missing and you can't undo the million pictures they'll splash on the front of every paper if she's led into the MLE in handcuffs by the Head Auror and escorted by the Minister for Magic. Be reasonable."

"Hermione," Harry said tightly. "Not now."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.

"You truly believe this woman – without whom you would be dead, I might add – would be responsible for kidnapping anyone?" Hermione demanded, putting her hands on her hips as the law-challenging solicitor part of her training rose to the surface.

Harry sighed.

"Look, Hermione, I get it. But you've got to see how this looks. Astoria Malfoy has been reported missing. I've got Galina Greengrass screaming that she and Narcissa visited Astoria this afternoon before Galina was knocked unconscious. When she came to, both Narcissa and Astoria were missing – Astoria's health monitors having been crudely unplugged and tossed aside. Her wand was found in the hospital bed, and there's no trace of her."

"But I'd never…" Narcissa began, and Harry held up his hand.

"Your past criminal record does not do you any favours, Narcissa, nor does the incredibly public knowledge that had you not lied to Voldemort, I would be dead for real," Harry told the woman. "I've got a missing woman on my hands – one who has spent the past few weeks bedridden in hospital. Meaning that by the time we find her, she might very well be dead. I've got the victim's mother screaming for justice, and I've got you being accused of being her last conscious visitor. Galina wants to press charges on you for assault and believes you abducted her daughter."

"Harry, she's a Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes. " _If_  Astoria's disappearance  _could_  in some way be linked back the Malfoys, do you really think they would be so obvious as to have Narcissa be the last person seen with the victim? They  _know_  how to get away with murder."

"Hermione, you're not really helping, dear," Narcissa said, looking strained.

"Potter, you can't just arrest my mother," Draco said.

"I have no choice. Now stand aside, you lot. I have to apprehend her properly, and I'm sorry, Narcissa, but I have to make sure it's public, else I'll be accused of going easy on you because I owe you my life or be accused of accepting a pay-off."

Narcissa sighed, accepting her fate and offering her hands to Harry. That, more than anything, made Hermione think she was innocent. She doubted Narcissa would ever willingly surrender herself if she was in danger of being found guilty.

"Draco, be a dear and fetch your Father and Horatio, would you?" Narcissa said.

"Right," Draco said.

"Report to the Ministry when you're done, Draco," Harry said. "Else I'll be arresting you, next. She's your wife, after all, and you've motive, what with Astoria's affair and the impending divorce."

"The divorce is finalised," Draco replied. "She signed this while Mother was with her today."

Draco held up the document.

"That's evidence, I'll be needing that," Harry said, holding his hand out for it.

"Fine," Draco said, duplicating the document and handing the original over to Harry without argument.

"You can't keep a copy," Harry argued.

"I need to file it with my solicitor, Potter," Draco said. "You've got the original. Don't be difficult, yeah?"

Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but Draco stepped through the Floo calling out the address for his Father's offices before he could say anything else.

"Hermione, will you be alright minding the boys this evening?" Narcissa asked, noticing the two small children peeking around the door shyly and looking very concerned at the sight of Uncle Harry arresting their grandmother.

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered, looking all the more awkward about the entire situation and rather apologetic as he looked over at Hermione after spotting them kids. "Sorry, Hermione. I forgot you'd have the kids here."

Hermione waved away the apology, knowing there was nothing to be done for it now, though she certainly didn't fancy facing the curious questions the inquisitive children would undoubtedly ask the minute things weren't quite so tense.

"How did you know Narcissa would be here?" Hermione asked him suspiciously, wondering how it was that he'd known to look for the woman in Hermione's house and wondering what affect that might have on her chances of being summoned for questioning by the MLE.

"She's still got a trace on her magic, as part of her parole," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and Hermione recalled suddenly that following her trial at the Ministry Narcissa and Lucius had both been put on parole thanks to their involvement with Voldemort. Draco, too, for that matter. Lucius and Draco having both been marked Death Eaters meant that no matter the testimonies to their innocence, they had been charged hefty sums of money and Lucius had been put on house arrest for some time. She'd forgotten that Narcissa would still be being traced, in the event she was ever wanted for questioning. "We tracked it here."

"If you don't mind my asking, Minister," Narcissa said, sounding rather miffed about the whole thing, but not putting up too much of a fuss. "Why are you here?"

"This is a very sensitive case," Kingsley said, his deep voice resonating through the room. "Mostly I am here for the sake of appearances to ensure that neither Harry, nor the Ministry, are accused of playing favourites or cutting deals. Lucius, after all, is well known for his willingness to bribe his way out of trouble. This is the very last thing the Ministry needs considering that the victim in question is deathly ill and will likely be found dead when the time comes that we manage to locate her."

"Well, rest assured that every minute spent apprehending me is one more minute you're wasting. I didn't abduct the girl, and I certainly don't know who did," Narcissa said spitefully, looking all the more annoyed at Kingsley's answer and Hermione couldn't say she blamed the woman for being annoyed with him.

She also found that she believed Narcissa's word. She didn't know who'd abducted Astoria, and certainly hadn't done so herself. It seemed Harry did too.

"That might very well be true, Mrs Malfoy," Harry nodded. "But I think everyone in this room knows that while you didn't do it, Lucius almost certain knows who did. Galina's testimony against you had to be investigated; it's protocol. But I won't deny that I'm manipulating your husband through you. I know very well just the types of things you lot will do for one another. If I'm throwing the book at you incorrectly, Lucius will roll on the real culprit to keep you out of Azkaban, I'm sure."

"And meanwhile Astoria is kidnapped, possibly being raped and murdered, but you're playing at politics," Narcissa sniffed disdainfully, looking down her nose at Harry in that pompous way that only women of the very highest society seemed to manage. Hermione marvelled all the more at her ability to do so while being clapped into irons. "I see you've finally stopped chasing the hero's glory and started playing, eh Potter?"

Harry looked rather like he'd been slapped before he none-too-gently secured the handcuffs around Narcissa's wrists and hauled her over to the Floo, apparently not at all pleased by her assessment.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Lucius Malfoy looked up when Draco crashed through the door and interrupted the business meeting he was conducting.

"Draco?" he asked, not entirely surprised to see the boy.

His son's eyes were wide, and he was panting like he'd been running. Lucius suspected that Dolohov had finally done his job and killed off the pesky little bitch Draco had been married to. It seemed the boy had only just heard, and he looked none-too-pleased about it.

"Sorry to interrupt, Father," Draco said, straightening his robes a little as he walked a little further into the room, clearly conscious of their audience. "But I'm afraid you need to come quickly."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, holding up a hand toward his business associates to fend off their interruptions about not wanting to reschedule the meeting and how whatever Draco's issue was, it could surely wait.

"What's the matter, son?" Lucius asked, though he suspected her already knew.

"It's Mother," said Draco carefully, darting a glance toward the other men in the room before looking back at Lucius and clearly trying to convey that time was of the essence and privacy, a necessity.

Lucius's eyes widened, and his heart clenched inside his chest. No! That wasn't the sentence the boy was supposed to deliver. He was supposed to say Astoria was dead. Narcissa was supposed to be far away, somewhere in the public eye, making certain she had an alibi.

"What's happened to your mother?" Lucius asked in a strangled voice, taking a step in his son's direction and wondering if he might need to stun all of his associates unconscious.

Draco's eyes were wide, and he looked a little frantic.

"You need to come quick, Dad," Draco said, and Lucius's own eyes widened at the address Draco so very rarely used when speaking to him. "Mum's been arrested."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco hurried back out of the boardroom and toward his father's office, listening to his father dismissing his associates and knowing that Lucius would want all the details just as soon as he could get somewhere private. He knew his father would probably be annoyed that he'd announced his mother's arrest in front of them all, but curse it all, she'd been arrested! It was going to be in the bloody papers, and what was worse, while he didn't think his mother had anything to do with the disappearance, Astoria was missing.

Draco would be willing to bet every galleon in his Gringotts vault that Lucius was the one behind the abduction and he wasn't about to let his mother go down for something his father had done. He'd warned the man, blast it all. He'd warned him not to meddle and he'd warned him that if he did anything to  _handle the problem_ , Draco was going to lose his temper.

When Lucius hurried into the office, he was frantic, clearly concerned about his wife and in that, alone, Draco could not find fault with the man.

"Your mother had been arrested?" he demanded when he'd closed the door. "Arrested for what, Draco?"

"The abduction of Astoria Malfoy," Draco replied.

"Astoria is missing?" Lucius said, his eyes widening, and Draco  _almost_  believed that he didn't know about it and wasn't expecting it.

Lucius certainly wasn't expecting it when Draco lunged across the small space separating them and slugged his father across the face. Staggering back with a cry of shock, Lucius clutched his jaw and gaped at Draco in surprise.

"I  _warned_  you to stay away from Astoria and not to meddle in my affairs, Father," Draco growled at him, beyond furious, a vein beginning to throb in his temple. "What have you done with her? I know you'll have paid someone off or blackmailed someone into abducting her, but whoever it was fucked up. Mother was the last conscious person seen with her and Galina is screaming bloody murder, accusing mother of hexing her unconscious before kidnapping Astoria. Potter and the Minister showed up to arrest her and they dragged her away in handcuffs, Father!"

Lucius was rubbing his jaw and looking rather annoyed with him.

"How dare you strike me?" he demanded icily. "And like some filthy muggle, no less!"

"I'll do worse than strike you if you don't tell me where my fucking wife is!" Draco snarled, advancing on his father angrily. "I told you I'd handle it, Father. I told you not to get involved. Mother was there in the hospital room today – unwittingly incriminating herself – getting a hold of this."

Draco flung the copy of the signed divorce papers at his father, watching him catch them before unfurling the scroll of parchment.

"She agreed to our terms and she was going to go away quietly. And yet somehow, in between having mother get her to sign them, and her showing up at Granger's house to give them to me, Astoria's been kidnapped and now they're blaming Mum. What the fuck did you do?"

Lucius scanned the document with his eyes, clearly unaffected by Draco's foul language or his temper and Draco fought the urge he had to hex the bastard silly. He should've known better than to think Lucius could leave well enough alone. He should've known he would do something, send someone, try to handle the problem himself. He  _still_  hadn't accepted that Draco was a grown man capable of making his own decision and of blackmailing his own victims.

"Granger's house?" Lucius demanded, narrowing his eyes as he finally looked up.

Draco stopped, mid-pace, realising what he'd just said. Narrowing his eyes in return, and not about to pussy-foot around the issues a minute longer when his father had just proved himself capable of everything Granger had feared, Draco glared at him.

"What? You didn't know Mother takes tea with Granger every fortnight?" Draco asked, sneering coldly. "There is no book-club, Father. She takes tea with the mother of your eldest grandson and checks up on the bastard I unknowingly sired five years ago."

Lucius looked like he'd been punched all over again. This time in the gut. Indeed, he looked rather ill.

"You…" he began, sounding strangled, his eyes bulging in their sockets like he couldn't believe his ears and looking rather like he hoped this was all a very bad dream.

"Yes," Draco snarled. "I fucked Granger, and I got her pregnant.  _Mother_ , meddlesome bloody chit that she is, helped Granger to conceal the boy from me for five bloody years, meeting her on the sly and likely putting money in Granger's vault to provide for the kid. They're  _friends,_  Father. She's been lying about where she goes and who she sees because she  _knew_  that if I found out, I'd want a bloody divorce to do right by Granger, and she knew that if  _you_  found out, you'd likely try to have the both killed. She even wrote a clause into my bloody marriage contract  _knowing_  I'd sired the little bastard, and  _knowing_  I was still bloody hung up on Granger when I got married, which would've allowed me to be fucking Granger this entire time, even whilst married to Astoria, without violating my pre-nup. Mother has been scheming and conniving, and it all had to come out and would likely have been a big enough scandal in and of itself to see me divorced and to have it revealed that Astoria was pregnant to Adrian bloody Pucey. Add to that, the world would've found out that Granger's son is my son, too. And on top of all of that fucking  _mess_ , you had to go and hire someone to kidnap my fucking wife?!

"Who took her, Father? Who did you hire? Where the fuck is Astoria and what the fuck is going to happen to her if Potter and his squad of Auror's don't get her back in time? Because right now, Mum is being led into the Ministry in chains, accused of abducting my wife – a witch who is ill and needs to be in the hospital. Where is she?"

Lucius scowled at him and Draco narrowed his eyes, just daring his father to try and talk his way out of this one or try to bullshit him into thinking it was all in his head.

"The less you know…," Lucius began, and Draco didn't even think about it before he hexed the man so hard that Lucius stumbled back, clutching at his chest and flopping into his office chair, looking at Draco with wide eyes.

"Tell me, Father," Draco growled, advancing on him. He was through playing games.

"You'll be incriminated if I tell you," Lucius hissed, his hands on his chest while he struggled for breath thanks to the intensity of the stinging jinx Draco had used.

"I'll be able to tell them where the bloody hell to start looking for my wife before she dies!" Draco argued. "Are you really going to do that to Scorpius? You would rob your own grandchild of his mother,  _just_  to keep the Ministry from looking into your investments?"

"You don't understand," Lucius snarled. "I could hardly just hire any old person for the job, now could I?"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Who?" he demanded. "Who has my wife?"

"He wasn't supposed to kidnap her," Lucius hissed. "He was just supposed to poison her, or curse her, or just unplug her bloody machines at the hospital. We made an Unbreakable Vow."

"WHO, MERLIN CURSE IT ALL!?" Draco shouted, advancing on his father and seizing the back of the chair either side of his father's head, shaking it violently.

Lucius looked up at him, a guilty gleam in his eyes.

"Dolohov," he whispered.

Draco's blood ran cold at the very thought.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Astoria Malfoy blinked her eyes open groggily, grizzling a little at the kink in her neck and discovering that she was shivering with cold. Confused that the medical staff weren't doing a better job of looking after her, Astoria squinted helplessly in the dark, finding that her limbs felt heavy, sluggish with cold and misuse.

She felt like she'd been asleep for a very long time, and she frowned when she noticed the sounds of her health monitors were missing and the many lights of the hospital that she'd been forced to grow accustomed to were no longer hurting her eyes.

"Where am I?" she rasped, discovering as she said so that she was incredibly thirsty.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the otherwise dark room, and Astoria squinted even more, some instinct deep in the back of her skull warning her to go for her wand. Her hands fumbled uselessly, searching the bed, tangling in the sheets, trying to locate the weapon.

They came up empty.

Through the dark, the figure of a powerfully built man seemed darker than the darkness and Astoria cringed back against the pillows, fear festering in her gut. Her hands curled protectively around the ever-growing bump of the baby blossoming in her womb, and she began to whimper, realising that all those nights she laid awake just waiting for Lucius or Draco to send an assassin for her – all those times she'd resigned herself to her untimely death – had all meant nothing. Her imagination had been nothing in comparison to the reality.

A terrified sob tore from her throat as the man came closer, and she tried to squirm away when he reached one large hand in her direction, brushing her hair back from her sweaty face and making her skin crawl.

He leaned closer slowly, lowering himself down to sit on the mattress facing her, reaching one arm across her body to lean against the bed, effectively trapping her. Astoria's heart raced, her shallow breath sawing up and down her raggedly dry throat. She whimpered, not daring to close her eyes, unable to bear the thought of him doing something to her that she wouldn't see coming.

"Please…" she whispered, terrified out of her wits. "Please don't hurt me… I'll do anything."

She blinked when he lit the end of his wand, the light stinging her eyes that had strained so hard in the dark trying to identify her assailant. When she'd adjusted, her stomach turned over with terror. Sweet Merlin, she knew that face. It was a face that had haunted her nightmares since she'd been a teenager. The face of the man who'd sauntered into her home on more than one occasion to torment her father and blackmail him out of money, collecting it for the Dark Lord during the height of the war. It was the face of the man who'd laid unwelcome hands upon her mother. The face of the man who, on more than one occasion, had laid unwelcome hands on her and her sister, too.

"Dolohov," she breathed, her utter terror causing her to lose control of her bodily functions, the sheets and her hospital gown dampening with the acrid scent of urine.

He smirked that horrible smirk she'd seen him wear too many times in her nightmares, and he made a mockery of tucking her hair behind her ear as though he actually cared for her like a lover.

"Hello, Miss Greengrass," Antonin Dolohov practically purred, his voice making every hair on her body stand on end. "It's been a long time, hasn't it,  _dorogaya_?"

Astoria closed her eyes as she began to sob, cringing back from him and waiting for it to all be over.


	25. Chapter 24

Hermione looked up, startled at the sound of the Floo roaring before hurried footsteps filled the room. It was late – she'd put the boys to bed hours ago after a swath of questions she either couldn't or wouldn't answer. She'd been waiting by the Floo ever since, unreasonably worried about people she had no right to be fussing over.

She didn't know Astoria Malfoy well enough to care what might've become of her. She certainly shouldn't be sitting awake well after midnight and waiting for any scrap of news that might be delivered pertaining to Astoria's abduction and Narcissa's arrest. But no matter how she'd told herself it was none of her concern and none of her business, there she sat; still awake, still wondering if the woman would even live out the night, wherever she happened to be. Merlin, for all Hermione knew, Astoria was dead already and it was just a matter of time before the Aurors found her mangled corpse.

Drawing her wand, Hermione rose swiftly to her feet just in time to see Draco Malfoy dashing into the room. He hadn't called out to locate her, but he seemed to know that he would find her in the den, sitting by the fire with a book she'd been too distracted to pay much attention to.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he muttered when he spotted her, and Hermione lowered her wand, frowning at him.

He crossed the room to her quickly and she almost turned the tip of her wand on him again when he reached for her with both hands, curling them around her jaw as he invaded her space before he leaned down and planted a frantic, desperate sort of kiss upon her lips. Hermione blinked in surprise, attempting to pull back, wanting answers and surprised by his show of affection. Malfoy refused to release her, kissing her hard, his tongue sweeping out to part her lips before tangling with hers.

Hermione would admit that she rather forgot her protests when he snogged her hotly, his hands sliding into her hair as he pressed his body to hers. She kissed him back without thinking, sensing that for all the passion and magic that crackled between them thanks to the urgency and intensity of the kiss, he wasn't snogging her for the sake of some paltry seduction.

"I need you to pack your trunk," he said urgently, his voice husky when he pulled back several dizzying minutes later.

"What?" Hermione asked, frowning at him and trying to reorganize her scattered wits.

"Pack a trunk for yourself and the boys," Malfoy said seriously. "Now, Granger. I've got to get you out of here."

"What do you mean? Get me out of here? It's almost one o'clock in the morning, Malfoy!" Hermione protested.

Draco stared into her face intently.

"Hermione," he said quietly in a voice she was certain she'd never heard him use; one that was stern and yet soft, almost imploringly and yet entirely unyielding. "I  _need_  you to pack a bag and prepare yourself and our children to leave this house within the hour."

Hermione frowned all the more.

"Whatever for?" she asked, unknowingly imitating his mother in both tone and word-choice, even in expression. "What's happened? Where is your mother? Where've you been, for that matter?"

"Mother is still in MLE custody," Draco told her seriously. "I've been with my father. And then I was with the Aurors while they questioned me before Horatio managed to force them to release me. You need to pack, Granger. You need to pack now. Pack, and I'll wake the boys."

"Why?" Hermione asked, a chill spider-walking down her spine.

"Because I know who abducted Astoria and I  _know_  he'll target you next," Draco answered quietly.

"Do Harry and the Aurors know, too?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes on him.

"Not yet," Draco admitted. "That's not my secret to confess and it's not my crime to go down for."

"Crime?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione," Draco said seriously, and more than anything his use of her first name in that low tone made her think that whatever was bothering him, and whoever it was that had taken his wife was someone that scared him more than anything else on the planet.

"You want me to run?" she asked, frowning at him.

"I  _need_  you to run, Granger," Malfoy said quietly. "I need you to take those boys and I need you to run. I need you to go someplace safe and to hide there until I come to find you."

"Who?" Hermione asked, whispering. "Greyback?"

Draco shook his head.

"Please pack," he asked, his expression imploring. "I have to get you out of here, Hermione. I have to get you someplace safe."

"I'm safe here," she said, frowning. "This house is warded within an inch of it's life. Nothing gets across my wards that I don't want in this house, Draco."

"Granger, the person who took Astoria was Antonin Dolohov," Malfoy said quietly, and Hermione's heart actually seized inside her chest, the ache permeating her entire torso as the very mention of that man's name sent jolt of terrible burning agony through the scar that still marked her flesh from his attack on her eleven years ago.

"He's dead," Hermione said stubbornly through gritted teeth, unwilling to believe that it had been him; that he was alive; that he might be hunting her.

Draco shook his head.

"My father's been holding him captive in the very deepest bowels of the Manor for seven long years since the Dark Lord's fall. When he needed a solution to having Astoria kick up a fuss at my intent to divorce her, he made an Unbreakable Vow with Dolohov to have Dolohov remove Astoria from my life and to ensure she would never cause us another problem. He made Dolohov swear that no member of the Malfoy family by blood would ever be harmed by him should he seek to retaliate thanks to his imprisonment. He made Dolohov swear never to harm my mother. But he couldn't make him swear anything else and still have Astoria expunged from our lives. And if he's got the ability to hurt my wife, he's got the ability to hurt the mother of my illegitimate son, too."

Hermione gulped, knowing he was right.

"If he finds out that you and I share a son, he'll come after you, Hermione," Draco said. "Hell, even if he doesn't find out about Aurelian, he might come after you. During my days as a trainee Death Eater, he was often one of my tormentors and my teachers. And he's  _obsessed_  with you. He asked ceaseless questions about you whenever he saw me, intrigued by the way you'd survived his curse at just sixteen. I'm surprised he hasn't come for you, already, if I'm being honest. He's been free for more than a week. So, I need you to pack. I need to take you somewhere safe. Safer than here. I don't care how good your wards are. He's a curse-breaker, and he has a one-track mind. If he gets it in his head to hunt you down, only one thing will stop him."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

The expression that twisted Malfoy's lips made her nervous and she got the feeling that she wasn't going to like what he might soon show her. She got the feeling that whatever could keep her safe was going to be something that would make her blindingly angry.

"Please pack your things, Hermione," Malfoy said in a low, hoarse voice. "Please? Please let me take you and my sons someplace safe where I know he can't get you before I return to help Potter hunt down the bastard and hopefully, to save my wife from that evil bastard's clutches."

Hermione frowned at him.

"Where would you have me go? I can't just… sit idly by locked in some tower, Malfoy. I'm not the damsel-in-distress, type. I'm certainly not the type to rest on my laurels when others are in danger and I've never been one to allow misjustice to flourish when I can do something to stop it."

"Damn it, Hermione! We're not sixteen, anymore!" Draco growled, running a frustrated hand through hair. "We're not hair-brained fools, anymore. You can't just go charging headlong into danger alongside Potter and Weasley, anymore. You have a son. A five-year-old son who needs his mother. I have a three-year-old son whose mother is already in the clutches of this monster, Hermione. I will  _not_  allow you to endanger yourself, too. I'm going to have to learn to live with the fact that, if she's not already dead, Astoria likely soon will be. If Dolohov doesn't murder her – and if he's abducted her instead, I can guarantee you that wherever she is, she is  _begging_  for death right now – then she will likely die of this illness infecting the pregnant witches before we manage to find her.

"I know I don't have any fucking right to tell you what to do, and I know that you're stubborn as a mule and that my asking it, or even begging it of you will like make you do the exact opposite of what I want. But for the love of Merlin, Granger,  _please_  run. Please let me hide you. Please go somewhere safe and let me avenge the mother of my youngest son without worrying that the mother of my oldest might soon end up in the clutches of a man who has described to me in the most intimate, gore-filled, disgusting detail all of the reprehensible and abominable things he would  _revel_  in doing to you. You're proud, and you're strong, and you're the fiercest witch I've ever met – including my mother – but I  _need_  to know you're safe. I need you to hide. I need you to use all that fierce, protectiveness to defend my sons  _knowing_  that no matter my best efforts, this arsehole will try to track you down. Knowing there might come a time when he will find you, no matter how well I hide you. Please, Granger. If not for me, then do it for Aurelian. Don't let both of my sons lose their mothers to this bastard. Please."

Hermione stared at him for a long time when he finished speaking, and it occurred to her rather poignantly that Draco Malfoy actually, truly did give a damn about her. He looked poised to fall on his knees and beg her to hide and to protect their sons, in fact, and Hermione wondered when Draco Malfoy had grown from the arrogant, smirking, sneering git she'd always thought him, to instead be the type of man who looked ready to do absolutely anything to protect his family. She wondered what he'd do if she said no.

"Where is it that you want me to go?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows at him.

"We've a house in France," Draco said quietly. "No one knows about it except for Mother, Father, and I. None of us would ever willingly share its existence or its location with anyone. Had the Dark Lord won the war, we'd have fled there before the battle ended. It is… very well protected."

"Protected by what?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy's expression twisted into the uncomfortable expression again. The one that made her think she wasn't going to like the answer.

"Creatures," he answered after a few minutes of tense silence. "Enslaved creatures from many different magical races. Fey. Giants. A Cerebus or two. It's not safe to leave the confines of the house whilst on the grounds, if I'm being honest. They roam within the outer wards, and they can and will kill anything they come across. Dolohov won't be able to find you there. Even if he manages to find it and disable the wards, the beasts will slaughter him before he gets within one hundred feet of the house."

"You think such a place would be a safe hideout for two boys under six?" Hermione challenged.

"It's warded inside, too," Draco admitted. "They would have to kill themselves and split their souls to cross the wards and enter the grounds."

"That's worse," Hermione frowned.

"They're not dangerous," he held up his hands. "Even within the house, you or I couldn't actually reach the wards to think about crossing them. They're too powerful. You won't want to try and leave, and the boys will be deterred."

"You want to ship me off to France where I'll be surrounded by dangerous magical creatures _and_  will be trapped indoors with two rambunctious children? I'll go mad. They'll go mad," Hermione protested.

"You won't. The house is large. There's plenty of space for them to play. They just can't breach the perimeter of the house," Malfoy protested. "And you will all be safer there than here. Granger, please… Just… Pack your things. Every minute we stand here arguing is another minute Dolohov has to torture Astoria."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, not liking that he'd resorted to guilting her into agreeing for the sake of rescuing the witch.

"It's going to look terribly suspicious if I disappear with the children when your wife just so happens to be missing, too, Malfoy," Hermione pointed out.

"And I'm sure that Potter might question you unless I can convince Father to confess his crimes, but since you'll be beyond his reach, he'll just have to wait until this mess has been dealt with. Granger, we don't have any more time to argue about this. He might very well be torturing information about your existence out of Astoria as we speak. He might be on his way here."

Hermione scowled.

"Fine," she hissed, though she was none too happy about the idea of running away to some hideout in France just because he doubted her ability to protect herself and her son. "But if this isn't proof enough that every choice I made to keep Aurelian's existence from you was the right one, then you're a fool, Draco Malfoy."

His left eye twitched like he wanted to tell her it was a cheap shot to kick him when he was already down, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I'll wake the boys," he said.

"Let me pack some things for them, first," Hermione argued. "They'll just be in the way, grizzling and tired if we wake them before we're ready to depart."

"Fine," Malfoy nodded in agreement. "I'll help you pack."

Hermione got the feeling he simply didn't trust being able to let her out of his sight when he feared Dolohov would burst into her home at any moment, intent on abducting her, too.

"What happened at the Ministry?" she asked, frowning at him while she threw a collection of clothing into her trunk for herself, before invading Aurelian's room and packing many of his clothes and toys too. She had a small collection of Scorpius's things in the house, thanks to the number of times she'd looked after him in recent weeks, and she packed all of those into her trunk, too.

"Mother is still being held, though Potter seems to know she's not responsible. He's got every Auror on the force invading every known location in Knockturn Alley and the other dodgy parts of our world where Dolohov might hide."

"You said he doesn't know it's Dolohov," Hermione pointed out. "Why didn't you tell them?"

Malfoy scowled.

"Because even if he was being held captive by my Father, he was still technically considered to be 'on the run', and as such confessing to any knowledge of his whereabouts, his detainment, or his existence could be considered a felony. I'm not about to risk being charged with obstruction of his arrest, or with aiding and abetting a fugitive. The last thing I need is anyone accusing me of shielding that bastard from the Ministry," Malfoy said seriously.

"How is Harry supposed to hunt him down and save Astoria if you won't tell him who's captured her?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Why do you think I need to hide you somewhere safe, Granger?" Malfoy asked. "I'll track him down myself. When I find him and kill him, I won't be deemed in league with him, and I won't be accused of protecting him."

"If you kill him – no matter his crimes – you'll be arrested for murder, Draco," Hermione warned, frowning at him.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I'd let the MLE find his body, Granger," Malfoy said quietly, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose when she looked over at him sharply.

He wore a grim expression. One she'd never seen on his face before. Indeed, it was the sort of expression she'd once seen on the face of Professor Snape. Never on the face of the frightened boy who'd been bullied and pressured into taking the Dark Mark. The look on Draco's face then wasn't the look of a scared teenager who'd been ordered to kill someone or torture someone and didn't want to do it. No, it was the look of a man who would commit murder without remorse when the time came. Worse, it was the resigned expression of a hunter who knew it was only a matter of time before his quarry laid dead at his feet.

His expression then wasn't that of the boy she'd known all through Hogwarts, nor that of the man she'd come to know through the years following the war when she'd been his colleague. This was the look of a man willing to seek revenge for the abduction and likely the murder of his wife. The look of a man willing to kill to protect his children. Most intriguingly, Hermione realised that it was the look of a man willing to kill for her sake, alone. After all, if what Lucius had told Draco was true, Dolohov  _couldn't_  harm Lucius, Draco, Aurelian or Scorpius. He couldn't harm Narcissa, either.

He could only hurt her. He was likely already hurting Astoria, and probably enjoying every minute of doing so. To make matters worse, given the fairy virus and her pregnancy, even if Dolohov decided not to kill the woman he'd abducted, the virus would soon kill her – or at the very least force her to miscarry her unborn child. She might very well die before Draco could find them. And Draco knew that. She could see it in the slant of his mouth and in the flat, deadened look in his grey eyes. He  _knew_  that it would likely be too late for his wife by the time he got to her. His willingness to kill the man responsible was born only of a need for revenge, and a need to protect Hermione.

That, more than anything else she'd learned tonight, terrified Hermione. Not because she was unaccustomed to men willing to kill to protect her. Even with their fallout and the infrequent interaction between them, these days, Hermione knew that Ron would still kill to protect her. She knew Harry would kill to protect her. George. Neville. Percy. Bill. Charlie. Arthur. Hagrid. All of them were men whom she knew would likely be willing to kill Dolohov if it meant protecting her.

And  _that_  knowledge, knowing that Draco Malfoy had somehow ended up keeping the same company as those men she'd known and loved for more than half her life, terrified Hermione Granger more so even than knowing Dolohov was alive, and likely coming for her. Because if he was willing to kill for her, that meant that he cared about her. Cared about her deeply enough to risk his immortal soul for her sake. Enough to risk his freedom; risk his life; all for the sake of protecting her. He didn't have to do it. His nature as a self-serving bastard ought to have dictated that he be willing to protect himself, both from danger and from possible imprisonment, before doing something to protect another.  _Unless_  the one he was protecting was of more use, or more importance to him than himself. And in someone like Draco Malfoy, that was rare.

Hermione gulped as she met his unrelenting gaze, recognizing that whatever the hell was building between them was likely going to complicate her entire life. She nodded her head only once, not bothering to try and argue any more against the notion of him killing Dolohov, if and when he managed to track him down.

And Draco wasn't the scared, blustering git he'd been as a teenager. Not anymore. He was a Hunter, now. The best in the DRCMC, in fact, though she didn't imagine she'd ever be foolish enough to inflate his ego by admitting it out loud. He was the one she relied on to track down and bring back any creature she set her interests on. Even those she was half-convinced couldn't possibly exist, he had managed to track down. The Jabberwalkie still caged in her office was a testament to it. Draco Malfoy was a predator; a skilled and deadly hunter trained to track down his prey by whatever means necessary. He was willing to put his life on the line for it, more often than not, and the scars littering his body beneath his clothing were proof of that fact.

He'd gone out into the woods, alone, and hunted down a creature she'd been certain was just a myth. He'd gotten himself poisoned, bitten, and almost eaten just to drag it back to her lab in a cage. When he went after Dolohov, Hermione suspected he would find him. If what he'd said about being mentored by Dolohov as a Death Eater was true, he would likely know a good many of Dolohov's habits, his hideouts, and his thought-patterns. Hermione got the feeling it wouldn't take him long to find the man – but she rather thought from the look in his eyes and the ice in his voice that it might take him a good long while to kill him, if only for the simple fact that he was going to  _enjoy_  killing Dolohov.

Hermione didn't know what to do with that information, either. She'd never known anyone who could savour a kill. She'd never imagined she would hold her tongue rather than insisting that a plan to torture someone slowly into madness was abominable. Clearing her throat as she closed her trunk, Hermione licked her lips.

"We need to make a stop of my lab," she told him. "If Astoria  _is_  still alive, she'll be in desperate need of my cure when you find her."

"You have a cure?"

"Not one ready for human testing. Not yet. But yes, there's a cure," Hermione nodded. "I'll finish working on it when we get to your safehouse."

Malfoy nodded his head, moving over to the bed where both of his sons slept – the two of them having crawled in to snuggle beside each other in Aurelian's bed despite the additional bed Hermione had transfigured and setup in the corner for Scorpius to sleep in on nights he stayed over. Reaching for her own son, Hermione decided it would be easier simply to transport the sleeping boy without waking him than it would be to fight with the tired and grizzling child.

"Just carry them," Hermione said quietly to Malfoy.

"Apparating will wake them, anyway," Malfoy pointed out. "And we'll have to take a portkey to reach France."

Hermione nodded. "Do you have one? I assume that if this is your escape plan should things ever turn sour again, you keep an illegally obtained international portkey somewhere?"

He smirked just a little bit, fishing a hand down the neck of his robes, showing her what appeared to be a goblin-made silver pendant in the shape of the Malfoy family crest suspended on a long chain.

"You keep it on you at all times?" she asked, surprised. "Even after all this time?"

Malfoy's mouth twisted unpleasantly.

"We turned Blood Traitor when we betrayed the Dark Lord and sold out every marked Death Eater and associate who'd been in league with him, Granger. The number of attempts that have been made on my life – and on Mother and Father's lives – since the war would boggle even your brilliant mind. I've had to activate it more than once, though not in more than a year, I'm sure. Believe me, I'd have been dead long before I ever sired your son if not for carrying this thing with me."

Hermione's eyes widened a little at that fact, surprised to find that even after all this time – as frequently as a year ago – someone had attempted to take his life for what he'd done during the war. She wondered if she even truly believed him.

"Come on," he said quietly when he'd scooped Scorpius into his arms before circling the bed and reaching for her and Aurelian with his free hand. "To your office. And then to safety."

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes and thinking hard about apparating the four of them to her lab. As she did, she tried very hard not to think about just what she must mean to Draco Malfoy that he was willing to kill for her, and she tried very hard not to notice the way he weaved his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck in a touch as possessive as it was comforting. When there was time to address all of this, Hermione got the feeling she was going to be in for a rather rude awakening to some more uncomfortable truths where this wizard was concerned.


	26. Chapter 25

The lab was mercifully empty when they arrived, though had it not been, they'd certainly not have been able to sneak up on whoever was lying in wait. Both Aurelian and Scorpius came awake with cries of fear and despair at being awoken by the unpleasant sensation of Apparation. Hermione winced when Malfoy quickly stepped back and angled his youngest son toward the sink fitted into her work-bench as the boy was sick everywhere.

"Oh, dear," Hermione sighed. "There, now, Aurey. It's alright, love. You're alright. Mummy didn't mean to frighten you. Shhhh, sweetheart. Stop crying. You're safe. Mummy's here," she soothed her son, who was also crying, but was managing to keep his dinner down better than his little brother.

"Whhhhhhyyyyy?" Aurelian wailed, burying his face in her neck and clinging to her like he couldn't bear having been woken so abruptly and so unpleasantly.

Hermione fought very hard not to giggle, finding some irony in the number of times she herself had groaned just like that in just the same tone and just the same word during the many midnight wake-ups and far-too-early-in-the-morning-for-this awakenings that her son had subjected her to during his first five years of life. Even knowing the poor darling was suffering the vertigo both of awakening somewhere he hadn't gone to sleep, in addition to the wretched feeling of apparation did little to stem her amusement at his reaction.

"Oh, sweetheart," Hermione managed a strained laugh as she set him down on her work bench and began prying his arms loose from around her neck so that she could gather the supplies she needed to continue working on the cure for the pregnant witches.

"Granger, I don't suppose there's anything in the medical box in here to stave off nausea and vomiting, is there?" Malfoy asked, holding his son over the sink while the poor boy vomited a second time, sobbing and crying and clearly convinced he was going to die.

"There should be," Hermione nodded, reaching for it and shoving it in Malfoy's direction, knowing that she needed to hurry and gather the supplies, so they could get going. Every moment they delayed was one more that Dolohov might be hunting her, or one more that he was subjecting Astoria to Merlin only knew what.

Malfoy rummaged through it when he set Scorpius on the bench, letting the boy lean over the sink so that he could vomit again if he needed to.

"Muuuummmmyyyyy!" Aurelian wailed, flailing his arms about and obviously upset that she'd dragged him from his bed in the middle of the night.

Many of the creatures currently calling her office home emitted noises of annoyance and distress at the unpleasant and high-pitched sound. Hermione winced when the Jabberwalkie flung more of its poison spines at the glass, intent on killing them simply for existing.

"Come on, Scorp. You're alright. Stop crying, mate. You'll be fine. It's just a bit of Apparation, yeah? Come on. Drink this for me and you'll feel better," Draco was bargaining with Scorpius, trying to cease his sobs of terror and trying to make sure he wouldn't keep being sick.

Hermione wasn't holding out much hope for that – either for Scorpius or Aurelian – knowing that in short order they were both going to be subjected to the longest and most uncomfortable travel of their short lives when they took an international portkey to some remote safehouse in France. She didn't imagine it would be easy to get the two tots back to bed any time before dawn, and her own late night was beginning to take its toll on Hermione. The previous night's sleeplessness hadn't been nearly rectified by her brief nap that afternoon and she was beginning to think that when they reached the safehouse, she might just sleep for a week.

"Come on, Granger," Malfoy rushed her. "Have you got everything? We've got to go."

Hermione huffed, flicking her wand and summoning the many things she thought she'd need to be ale to continue working on a cure.

"How do you plan to test that on humans, anyway?" he asked, frowned at her. "I'm not about to take you all the way to safety beyond Dolohov's reach just so you can go gallivanting off to test your cure on unsuspecting pregnant women."

"I'll test it on myself," Hermione muttered, frowning and not really paying the wizard much notice when she was too busy trying to convince Aurelian not to climb on her and cling to her while she was trying to pack.

The sound of the entire medical box clattering to the floor stopped her in her tracks and Hermione's wand was drawn and aimed at the culprit within moments. She blinked, frowning in confusion to find Malfoy staring back at her wide-eyed though there was no sign of any threat that had caused him to drop the box.

"You're pregnant?" he breathed, his brow furrowing for a moment before his expression suddenly slackened in shock.

"I… what?" Hermione frowned at him, entirely too tired to make sense of whatever weirdly confused yet delighted expression he seemed to be wearing.

"You… the other day, in your office… when we…. Granger? You're…. pregnant?" he asked, his voice an unusually squeaky pitch that rather alarmed her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione frowned at him. "That was… when was that, again? Oh, what does it matter? We used the charm, and I took the potion, afterward."

"You just said you'd test the potion on yourself when I asked how you would test in on pregnant women," Malfoy argued. "Don't try and be coy with me Granger… are you… are  _we_  having another kid?"

Hermione frowned at the way he looked rather like he'd been hit in the back of the head with something heavy before being hexed with a Cheering Charm.

"I'm not pregnant, Malfoy," Hermione said before frowning at Aurelian, who was pulling at her clothes and attempting to climb her front, intent on cuddling into her arms even though she was busy.

It was hard not to snap at the boy, needing to remind herself that until a few minutes ago he'd been sound asleep and now he was in her office and his brother was vomiting and his parents were arguing over a potential sibling.

"Aurelian, stop pawing at me!" Hermione snapped at the boy. "Malfoy, wipe that ridiculous look off your face. I'll test the potion on myself because it's affecting all wizarding folk, it's just burning through the estrogen store of each faster than others and hitting pregnant women the hardest because their bodies are producing it in abundance. Being that I am female, and as such produce estrogen naturally, I can test the potion on myself for efficiency. If my symptoms clear up, we'll know it works."

"You're not pregnant?" Malfoy frowned at her.

"I'd better bloody not be," Hermione said, shifting Aurelian to one hip when the boy refused to stay on the bench or on the ground, insisting on being cuddled.

"That's a bad word, Mummy," Aurelian reminded her, settling a little now that he'd gotten his way and they weren't spinning anymore.

"I know, darling. I'm sorry," Hermione apologised to the boy.

"How will you know it's safe for pregnant women to take?" Draco frowned at her. "You risk Merlin only knows what sort of side-effects if you give them an untested 'cure'. They could lose their babies, Granger."

"They're in danger of losing them anyway," Hermione said. "Either as a result of their bodies giving out and causing them to miscarry, or by having to force abortion on these poor women to save their lives. The virus will only be expelled if I can cook up a cure, or if the estrogen in their bodies is expended. It may be that these women will be forced to terminate their pregnancies if they want to live – and they're not currently rational enough to make that decision, most of them, which means the choice will fall to their husbands, or their families. Would you prefer knowing you have to kill your child; death; or the potential for a cure that  _might_  be harmful to the baby but also  _might_  cure them?"

"You can't offer desperate people a cure like that, Hermione," Draco frowned at her fiercely. "Desperate people do crazy things. What if your 'cure' kills them?"

"What if they don't take it and die anyway?" Hermione challenged.

"If they do that, at least their blood won't be on your hands and you won't be arrested for manslaughter or murder."

"I'm not going to force it on them. If they want to take it, they assume the risks."

" _You don't know the risks!"_ Draco snarled.

"I know the risks facing these women if we don't find an answer," Hermione retorted. "It's the same virus that almost wiped out almost the entire fey population three years ago, only it's infected humans. If they don't take the cure, they either have to abort their unborn babies, or they have to die. Their bodies will, eventually, reach a point where the body will self-abort to protect the mother, and by then it might be too late. Even if some choose to have abortions, it might still be too late for the mothers as well as the babies. Don't you see that? If I don't do  _something_ , then they're dead already, Draco. Ginny's dead. Astoria's dead. Every other pregnant witch… they're all dead if I don't do something."

"They're just as dead if you get the potion wrong and it poisons them or kills them, Granger," Draco snapped. "And then what? They'd prosecute you, and you'd likely be sentenced to the Kiss for killing pregnant women and unborn babies."

"When are you going to realise that I am not now, never have been and never will be the type of witch who just sits idly by for the sake of protecting my own skin, rather than helping others?" Hermione demanded, snapping at him while Aurelian and Scorpius both began to cry a little louder, unaccustomed to hearing the two of them shout at one another.

"When are you going to realise the people who need the most help from you, the people who need you alive, and free and safe are standing in this room, right now?" Malfoy retorted. "Aurelian needs you to be his mother, Granger. Not a superhero. Not a saviour. Not a saint who saved the wizarding world from a nasty virus. You already had your moment as a heroine, blast it all. Wasn't vanquishing an evil git and saving the world from war and blood prejudice enough?"

"I'm the only one who can help!" Hermione shouted at him, glaring and furious.

"No, Granger. You're not," Draco retorted coldly, his voice lowering in pitch and volume for every decibel hers rose. "It's not you, Potter and Weaselbee alone in the bloody woods, destroying horcruxes and plotting to overthrow the Dark Lord, anymore. This is a virus. There are thousands of trained professionals who can help fight this thing. Not three scared kids. Not a castle-full of scared kids and a rag-tag team of resistance fighters. This isn't you against the big evil, love. This is you, me, and everyone else who know anything about science and magic and chemistry figuring out a way to save these women and their babies. You don't need to be skipping nights of sleep and running off to fairy-graves and almost killing yourself while you alone focus on finding a cure to this thing. Other people can help."

"How can they help?" Hermione demanded angrily. "You're about to ship me and the kids off to some remote location so safely guarded that I doubt anyone has ever successfully penetrated it. Where am I going to get help to fight this thing from there, huh?"

"You're going to write a long letter and hand over copies of your formulas and when I return here after getting you and the boys to safety, I'm going to give that information to the Healers at St. Mungo's and we're going to hope for a miracle. They can handle the human trials and the testing. You get to help without being solely responsible for it's creation, thus avoiding sole blame  _if_  by some horrid twist of fate the bloody 'cure' kills someone instead of fixing them. You get to avoid going to bloody jail."

Hermione huffed at him, glaring.

"You want me to just…. Hand over my research?"

"I  _know_  you, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't try and play that angle with me. You're not in this for the bloody glory or some patent on a miracle cure. You're just jumping headlong into danger like the reckless, impulsive, pig-headed bloody Gryffindor you happen to be, and I'm not about to bloody let you. What happened to contingency plans? What happened to logic? Don't you point that finger at me, woman! I'm trying to think about this rationally and to protect your hide even though you seem hell-bent on endangering it."

"Naughty words," Aurelian interrupted, and Hermione blinked, her eyes darting to the boy before they jumped back to Malfoy, who looked comically stunned by the boy's input.

Despite her anger, a little snort of amusement escaped Hermione at Aurelian's sweet innocence and she shook her head.

"We'll have to get a swear jar, won't we, Aurey?" Hermione said, smiling fondly at the child on her hip as some of her bad mood slipped away.

"Daddy owes money to the swear jar," Aurelian nodded, before dragging his nose across Hermione's neck and shoulder to dry it on her shirt.

"Urgh! Aurey!" Hermione protested while Malfoy began to laugh at her misfortune.

If not for not wanting to wish further sickness on the poor child, she might've said that she hoped the next time Scorpius vomited, he did it on Draco.

"I love you, Mummy," Aurelian said sweetly, smiling innocently into her face as though he didn't know he'd just done something disgusting when Hermione knew very well that he was aware he'd been naughty.

"That was gross," Malfoy announced, though he was still laughing despite their heated words.

"Mummy, why are you and Daddy fighting?" Aurelian asked.

Hermione sighed, looking over at Malfoy as he picked Scorpius up once more, adjusting him into his hold before collecting the trunk Hermione had packed for the three of them.

"It's nothing, Aurey," she told the boy. "We're all just tired. Why don't we get to bed, hmm?"

"I  _was_  in bed," Aurelian pointed out.

"I know, darling. But we're going somewhere special for a few days, alright?" Hermione said.

"Daddy's house?" Aurelian asked, looking excited.

"One of them, buddy," Draco piped up, grinning. "You'll have to take good care of your Mum and your brother while you're there, alright?"

Aurelian nodded, though he frowned at little.

"Are you coming too, Daddy?" Aurelian wanted to know.

"For a bit," Draco nodded. "To get you settled. Then I need to go hunting."

"What are you chasing this time?" Aurelian wanted to know.

Malfoy gave Hermione a dark look.

"The evilest creature I've ever gone after," he said sinisterly.

Aurelian gulped.

"Granger, you ready?" Malfoy confirmed, moving toward her and fishing the pendant on his necklace from the neck of his robes, intent on apparating them.

Hermione gathered her things, adjusting Aurelian on her hip before she nodded.

"We're going by portkey, Aurey," Hermione told her son. "I want you to put your finger on Daddy's pendant, alright? Don't take it off until I say."

Aurelian nodded, and Hermione reached out, brushing the pendant too.

"Scorp, touch it, buddy," Draco said to the boy he held.

Scorpius was still sniffling softly and looked very much like he just wanted to fall back to sleep. Hermione didn't blame him. The late hour was beginning to catch up to her, too, and she'd never been a fan of travelling by Portkey.

"Here we go," Malfoy said quietly. " _Portus."_

Hermione pressed her lips together at the wretched spinning, listing to Aurelian begin to bawl in her ear when he tried to wrench his finger off the pendant and found it stuck thanks to the magic of the device. They seemed to spin endlessly through space, colour blurring together, and Hermione felt more than a little dizzy when, more than fifteen minutes later they finally slammed into solid ground, sending the four of them sprawling.

Aurelian was crying, Scorpius immediately rolled over and vomited all over the floor and the stench of the puddle of sick set Aurelian off, too.

"Oh, Merlin," Malfoy could be heard muttering when he sprawled on his back on the floor of what appeared to be an entrance hall.

Hermione herself had to closer her eyes and clamp her hand over her mouth lest the scent and sight of the vomiting children get the best of her already upset stomach.

"I'd forgotten how bloody long that is," Draco said, staring that ceiling and simply taking deep breaths like he needed time to regain his equilibrium. If his head was spinning anything like Hermione's was, she didn't blame him.

Both children appeared almost drunks thanks to the vomiting and crying and the way they kept flopping in the puddles of sick as a result of their spinning heads, too. She wasn't looking forward to trying to get the mess all cleaned up so she could get them back to bed.

"Master?" a squeaky voice asked, the sound of flat footed feet hurrying into the room from somewhere away to the left.

At least, Hermione thought it was the left. Her head was spinning so much she couldn't be sure. She made a mental note never to travel by international portkey ever again and she muttered to herself about what a wretch Malfoy was for forcing her to do so in the middle of the night with two weak-stomached little boys.

"Chandy?" Malfoy asked, tipping his head slowly in the direction of a House Elf that had run into the room.

"Oh, Master, is you be alright?" Chandy asked, wringing her hands together.

"Do you think you could get the boys cleaned up?" Draco asked politely of the elf. "That smell's going to make me sick."

"Chandy cleans," the elf said, snapping her fingers and vanishing the vomit from the floor and the children's clothes. "Baths too? Chandy baths you all with magic?"

"Go ahead," Draco nodded. "No one is in any fit state to stand, let alone bathe."

Hermione nodded, squeezing her eyes closed at the uncomfortable feel of elf magic washing over her skin and her clothes until she felt cleaner than she'd ever done in her life. She would have to ask the elf to teach her how the spell was done, because it was actually rather nice, once the feel of the magic dissipated.

"Bed, Master?" Chandy asked. "Chandy was not expecting you, Master. Or the other little Masters and the Mistress. Where be…"

"I want Mummy!" Scorpius wailed before Chandy could finish and Hermione watched Malfoy from across the room where they both still sprawled on the floor, noticing the way he put his hands over his face and took a slow, shuddering breath, obviously too tired to deal with a tantruming three year old who had suddenly decided he missed his real mother and needed her more than the woman who'd been standing in on that role for the past few weeks thanks to Astoria's hospitalization and Malfoy's habit of leaving Scorpius and Aurelian together with her.

"Chandy, do you have any Calming Draught?" Draco asked. "Maybe a drop of Dreamless sleep."

"Chandy can use elf magic to make them sleep, Master," Chandy offered.

"Could you?" Draco asked.

Hermione was loath to admit that when the elf snapped her fingers and both children fell instantly to sleep, their crying and wailing suddenly ceasing, she felt relief more than anything else. She expected tomorrow she would hear all about it, but she was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to care that the boys had been denied their emotional outbursts in favour of rest.

"You alright, Granger?" Draco asked, turning his head slowly to look in her direction.

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed noncommittally. "We'd better get them to bed."

Malfoy nodded, sighing heavily before heaving himself to his feet. In the morning, Hermione was sure she'd have more time and more interest in admiring the décor and examining her surroundings, but her most pressing interest right then was to get her son into a bed somewhere and to crawl right in next to the five year old and simply sleep until she forgot some of the stress of the long day.

"Come on," Malfoy said, offering her a hand up when she pushed herself into a sitting position.

Hermione took his hand immediately, letting him help her up and letting him draw her into a soft embrace for a few sweet moments as she regained her balance.

"Bed," he murmured to her. "Come on. Let's all get to bed, yeah?"

"Are you staying?" Hermione asked, tipping her head up to look at him.

"It's after two in the morning," Malfoy nodded. "And I'm dead on my feet. I think I'll pass out if I try to portkey again so soon, and I can't be of much use finding Astoria if I'm falling asleep. I'm staying. Come on, love. Beds are this way."

He bent down, scooping up Aurelian because he was the heavier of the two boys, leaving Scorpius for Hermione to collect before he set off in the direction of a distant staircase. Hermione followed, cradling the sleeping boy in her arms and noting that Chandy winked out of existence, likely to prepare the bedrooms for having guests.

She didn't say anything as she followed him. When he led her up some stairs and down a winding corridor, Hermione simply trailed after him. He opened one of the bedroom doors to reveal and enormous king sized bed nestled amongst soothing, dark colours that made up a masculine bedroom.

"You alright to share tonight?" Malfoy asked her quietly as he rounded the bed and waited while Chandy peeled open the covers before slotting his eldest son between the sheets. Hermione followed, sliding Scorpius in beside Aurelian and watching the way the two brothers curled into one another instinctively for warmth.

"I don't care," Hermione confessed. "I just want to sleep. I'm never taking an international portkey again."

Malfoy nodded, though she knew he would take one again, probably first thing tomorrow morning. He rounded the bed once more, shedding his robes as he went. Hermione watched him throw them all on the floor until he wore only his boxers. He didn't even have the decency to blush before he crawled into bed, shuffling toward the middle and making space for her. Hermione followed suit, peeling off her jeans and her jumper before wriggling out of her bra without removing her singlet.

It was a testament to how tired he must be that Malfoy didn't make a single comment when she climbed into bed beside him wearing only a singlet and her knickers. Hermione closed her eyes as she was engulfed under the covers when he flipped them over the two of them and she sighed heavily as her weary body relaxed into the gloriously soft mattress.

She didn't protest when she felt Malfoy's hand sliding across her midriff, looping over her and pulling her across the bed closer to him until he could spoon himself around her.

"You alright?" he asked in a low voice, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed. "You?"

"You're safe now," he sighed, sounding like he was almost asleep already.

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes still closed, sleep rushing up to claim her.

"Goodnight, Draco," she murmured very softly.

He pressed a kiss against the curve of her shoulder where it flirted with the spaghetti strap of her singlet.

"Sweet dreams, Hermione," he murmured in reply before pulling her even more snugly into his hold.

Hermione fell asleep counting his breaths.


	27. Chapter 26

Draco woke with his arms full of warm, nubile witch and an ache permeating his groin that he felt sure could be best relieved by ravishing the witch he held. Of course, that notion was nipped in the bud when the foot of a small wizard connected squarely with the middle of Draco's back before tiny hands began pawing at his shoulders as a very small someone began climbing all over him like he was actually a jungle-gym, rather than a wizard.

Groaning, Draco cracked open one eye just enough to see Scorpius clambering himself up to perch on Draco's hip, where he sat and simply stared at his father. Draco would bet the boy was hungry. Having been ill during the night as a result of Apparating and then Portkeying, the boy's tummy was probably grumbling about being filled, once more. Draco wondered where Chandy was and whether the elf could be talked into dealing with the two young boys while Draco ravished the witch still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

"Hungry, Scorp?" Draco asked quietly, turning his head from where he'd buried his face in riotous curls to instead look at his youngest son.

"Hi, Daddy," Scorpius smiled at him toothily when he realised Draco was awake and Draco couldn't help the little squeeze in his chest.

"How'd you sleep?" Draco asked him quietly, raising one eyebrow at the boy and wondering if functioning on so little sleep was even legal.

Surely it ought to be mandated that one must have a certain amount of sleep per week, or else be allowed to shirk all responsibilities and just sleep until they were more rested.

"I miss Mummy," Scorpius told him quietly. "Where is she, Daddy?"

Draco's stomach flipped when he recalled that his wife; well, she was his ex-wife, now; was still missing and still likely in the clutches of Antonin Dolohov, a more twisted and fouler man he was sure he'd never met.

"Mummy's…" Draco began, unsure how to even continue the sentence.

What was he supposed to tell the boy? His mother might very well be dead, for all Draco knew. Dead, or wishing she was. Merlin, he might not find her alive. He might not find her at all.

"She's…" Draco tried again, his brow furrowing as he wracked his brain, trying to think of a single thing he could say to the boy that would adequately explain what had become of his mother.

"She's gone," Scorpius said quietly when Draco couldn't articulate his morbid thoughts of her fate. "Isn't she, Daddy? She's gone again, and this time she's not coming back."

Draco frowned at him.

"What do you mean by 'again', Scorp?" Draco asked.

"She goes away sometimes," the boy said. "When we're home. Mummy goes away, and I play by myself. Sometimes she stays gone all day long."

"She's been leaving you alone at the Manor?" Draco asked, frowning at the boy and rolling a little, releasing Granger to face his son more fully, adjusting the boy so that he was seated on Draco's stomach, rather than perched on his side.

"She goes away," Scorpius said. "And then she went to hospital. Aurey said sometimes people who go to hospital don't come back. He said his grandfather went to hospital and didn't come back. Is Mummy gone and not coming back, Daddy?"

Draco's heart clenched, and he looked across the pillows toward his eldest son where the boy was sprawled across the mattress, his little arms curled around one of the throw pillows and his thumb lodged squarely in his mouth. What had the boy been telling Scorpius about Astoria being ill? Worse, what had the poor boy endured to relay such a story to his brother?

"She... might be, Scorp," Draco admitted quietly. "I... Daddy needs to go away for a few days to try and find her, alright? And I need you to be a very good boy for Miss Hermione and the elves while I'm gone, okay, buddy?"

Scorpius blinked at him pensively. "Will you be coming back, Daddy? Is Grandmother coming back? Mr Harry took her away. Is she in trouble?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head slowly. "She's not in trouble, Scorp. Grandmother hasn't done anything wrong."

"She's coming back?" The boy asked earnestly.

"Of course, she is. She'll probably come by while you're staying here with Aurelian and Hermione."

Scorpius glanced across the pillows at his elder brother, his brow furrowing into a little frown.

"Aurey called you 'Daddy', too," Scorp said. "How comes he calls you 'Daddy'? He said he wants you to be his Daddy, but you're my Daddy."

Draco's lips twitched. "I'm your Dad," Draco chuckled. "But I'm Aurey's Dad too, buddy. Me and Miss Hermione made him before I married Mummy and we made you."

Scorpius frowned even more.

"Like the way Mummy made the baby in the tummy with that other man?" Scorpius confirmed. "Grandfather said the baby in her tummy isn't really my brother because you didn't help make him."

"I helped make Aurey," Draco told him, frowning to hear that his father had been filling the boy's head with poison about his impending half-sibling, should Astoria miraculously survive. "And Mummy's baby will be just as much your brother or sister as Aurelian is."

He didn't ask how Scorpius knew Astoria's baby was Pucey's. He didn't think he really wanted to know, if he was being honest. The idea that Astoria might've been taking the boy with her when she'd been sneaking off to meet with Pucey made him want to break things, and the idea of knowing she'd abandoned him at the Manor more than once to run off and rendezvous with her lover made Draco feel sick. It was one thing to leave the boy with his mother or his father or his wife while he went to work, but she'd hardly have been able to tell anyone where she was sneaking off to, which meant she'd probably just left him by himself, thinking the elves would see to him if anything happened.

That idea made Draco think that maybe he ought to leave the witch wherever she was, no matter what she was suffering or how she was being tortured.

"But Aurey's Mum isn't my Mummy," Scorpius argued, clearly not comprehending familial ties by blood over those by marriage and having no idea what his casually mentioned truths were doing to Draco's psyche.

"She's not," Draco allowed, his lips twitching a little at the boy's genuine confusion. Ah, to be three years old again and think only in literalisms without grasping nuance. "But she might be your Step-Mum, one day. If I can convince her I'm not a complete git."

"What's 'step-mum' mean?" Scorpius frowned.

"It means she might become your Mum by marriage. Mummy is related to you by blood, but if I convince Miss Hermione to marry me, she'll be related to you by marriage."

"But you're married to Mummy," Scorpius argued.

"Not anymore, buddy," Draco admitted quietly, reaching for the boy and pulling him a little closer, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Mummy is having a baby with someone else, and she's not supposed to do that when she's married to Daddy. It's against the rules, and so Mummy and Daddy can't stay married. That's her punishment for breaking the married-people rules."

"But what if she didn't mean to break the rules, Daddy?" Scorpius frowned.

"She meant to, buddy. All those times she went away, she was breaking the rules."

Scorpius frowned, clearly thinking about the idea for a long moment as though trying to understand it and Draco marvelled silently to himself that he'd had a hand in creating this glorious little being who was still just learning how to interact with the world.

"Breaking the rules makes Mummy happy," he said after a short pause. "She was always happy when she came back from breaking the rules, Daddy. She used to play with me more when she came back after breaking the rules."

Draco winced, not sure he wanted to know what she'd been doing to put her in a good mood, even though subconsciously, her  _knew_  exactly what the little wretch had been up to. He'd bet the bitch had played with Scorpius more when she returned out of guilt, too. He doubted she could easily get away with lying to him and cheating on him, abandoning their son routinely in the process, without drowning in guilt.

"And that's why Mummy and Daddy can't be married anymore, Scorp. Mummy and Daddy don't make each other happy. Mummy is happier when she spends times with Mr Adrian," Draco explained, wishing that divorce really could be as simple as saying that they didn't make each other happy and parting ways to seek their own happiness elsewhere.

Merlin, for all he knew his divorce  _would_  turn out to be horridly easy if Astoria was already dead. Draco silently berated himself for the thought as soon as it occurred to him.

"You're happier when you spend time with Miss Hermione, Daddy," Scorpius told him, looking toward Granger where she'd begun to fuss as she laid beside him.

Draco wondered if it was their voices or the lack of his warmth curled around her that was disturbing her and he turned his head in her direction. He supposed the kid had a point. He  _was_  happier when he was in Granger's presence than when he was almost anywhere else. He had never acknowledged it until now, but the fact was that even when there were angrily snarling at each other, or hissing obscenities, or just generally snapping, he was happier when he was talking to her.

Merlin, he was bloody happy waking up in bed beside her with their two young children in the bed alongside them, even if the little blighters  _did_  have a habit of sleeping in awkward and uncomfortable positions that tended to shunt the two of them across the mattress to avoid being kicked or hit during sleep.

"And you, Scorp?" Draco asked, looking back at his son. "Do you like Miss Hermione? Does she make you happy?"

"I like Aurey," Scorpius said. "And Miss Hermione gives me tasty things to eat. She lets me watch telly, and we play dragons and we fly on our brooms. I like spending time at her house."

Draco grinned.

"Will you be a good boy for her while Daddy goes away for a bit?" he asked.

Scorpius nodded his head in the affirmative.

"I'm hungry, Daddy," he announced just as Granger rolled in their direction, her eyes still closed and her face scrunched in annoyance.

Draco couldn't tell if she was still asleep, or if she was awake and protesting that fact.

"I guess we better organise some breakfast for you then, yeah?" Draco asked of his son, smiling a little when Granger burrowed into his side, nuzzling her face against his arm and grumbling under her breath about loud noises too early in the morning.

"Can I have pancakes?" Scorpius wanted to know, climbing to his feet and inadvertently stepping on Draco in his rush to clamber out from under the covers and get off the bed, entirely too excited about breakfast foods for so early in the morning.

"Sure, Scorp," Draco said. "Why don't you run down to the kitchens and see if Chandy is awake? She'll be happy to cook you pancakes."

"Is it this way?" Scorpius asked, dashing out the bedroom door in just his pyjamas and looking down the hall.

"Down the stairs and to the right, buddy," Draco informed his son.

His loud voice woke Aurelian and the elder of Draco's two children blinked his eyes open before realising he'd been abandoned by his brother.

"You want some breakfast, Aurey?" Draco asked of the child.

"Yes, please," Aurelian nodded. "Can I have bacon? I want waffles. Mummy, I want waffles."

Granger grizzled against Draco's arm.

"Run after Scorpius, Aurelian," Draco said to the boy, grinning a little. "He's gone to wake the elves so they can get started on breakfast. You two can fight it out over pancakes or waffles."

"Waffles are better," Aurelian insisted. "Is it this way, Daddy?"

Draco nodded, watching the boy point down the hall when he jumped out of bed and tore across the room.

"Down the stairs, buddy," Draco prompted, grinning to himself and wondering if his earlier thoughts about the elves distracting the kids while he ravished Granger might yet become a reality.

"Scorpius?" Aurelian called, running on bare feet down the hall with a little pitter patter as he went in search of his brother.

Draco heard an answering shout from across the house and he shook his head, chuckling to himself as the pair began calling back and forth in what sounded like a game of hide-and-seek. Turning his attention to the witch snuggled into his side, Draco smirked at the mess of curls threatening to engulf him and he waited for her to tip her face toward his before she opened those sleepy brown eyes.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione Granger opened her eyes slowly, listening to the wicked chuckle that escaped the man she'd slept beside. Beyond the bedroom she could hear the children calling to one another, laughing and shouting as they played. She blinked sleepily, trying to get her bearings as she subconsciously noted the dark, soothing tones of ebony and charcoal that decorated the room.

"Good morning," Malfoy greeted her when she focused her eyes on his face, noting that he looked rather more awake than she felt, and that he was grinning at her wickedly.

"Morning," Hermione managed, never one to enjoy waking up or mornings, in general. They just felt so unnecessary to her. Hermione was certain that the world would be a happier place if everyone was allowed to sleep until at least eleven every day.

"How did you sleep?" Malfoy asked politely, and Hermione scowled at him.

"Fine," she grumbled. "And you?"

"Good," he grinned. "You're very warm."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, knowing he'd spent most of the night spooned around her intimately.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked, wondering idly how bad her morning breath was and how she might best stave off any kissing – which Malfoy looked only too ready to engage in – without revealing that she could likely kill a troll with her morning-breath.

The foul taste of her tongue and the dryness in her mouth and her throat made her think it was probably pretty nasty and she didn't want to breathe too heavily or talk too much lest she offend his nose and utterly horrify him. It felt entirely too nice to have his arms around her and to have him being pleasant to her, and Hermione didn't want to jeopardise that by poisoning him with her noxious breath.

"Mmmm," Draco hummed, frowning a little before leaning over her and reaching for the nightstand.

He picked up the watch he'd taken off and discarded there shortly after they'd gotten into bed and Hermione waited for him to tell her rather than trying to see for herself.

"A little after ten," he told her. "But that's London-time. It's a bit after eleven, here."

Hermione nodded.

"I suppose you'd better get going?" she suggested, not particularly wanting to rush him out the door when it meant she'd be left stranded in a house surrounded by a plethora of magical creatures, in a foreign country, with only two boys under six for company.

She knew he had to go, though. Even if she didn't particularly like Astoria Greengrass, Hermione couldn't deny that having been her husband until perhaps just moments before she was abducted, Draco was morally obligated to search for her. What was more, he was one of the best equipped and best trained people for the job.

"Yeah," Draco sighed, looking a bit like he didn't want to leave.

"Are you going to be alright?" Hermione asked him.

"In what regard?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Dolohov will die if he tries to hurt me or kill me. He made an Unbreakable Vow to my father."

"That doesn't mean he won't still fire the spell," Hermione argued. "The spell won't be broken unless he actually injures you, and if it comes down to it, I imagine Antonin Dolohov would kill you even if it meant taking himself out, too. Especially if you corner him," Hermione said quietly.

"I don't think it will come to that," Draco said.

"Are you going to be alright when you see whatever state Astoria is in?" Hermione asked seriously. "There's a very real possibility that she's dead, Draco. She might be dead. She might've been mutilated. He might've beaten her to a pulp, or raped her, or tortured her with the Cruciatus curse into madness."

Draco's jaw clenched.

"I can do it," he said stoically. "I'll be fine."

Hermione doubted it. She couldn't say she was an expert on Draco Malfoy, or claim some all-knowing understanding of his innermost feelings, but she doubted very much that this man would be able to see the witch he'd shared his life with for four years in some awful state without effect. She didn't know what state he might be in when he next returned, and Hermione frowned for a long moment as she traced her eyes over his face, wondering what she should do and how she could help.

"Malfoy…" she began quietly, unsure what she'd intended to say when she started speaking, but feeling like she needed to offer  _something_.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself and those boys, alright?" he asked quietly, tilting his head a little to better meet her gaze. "No staying up through the night working on a cure. No working yourself ragged. I know you want to solve this riddle and cook up a cure, but it's too big for just one witch, and what's more the risks are too high if you distribute an untested potion to pregnant witches. And don't even think about testing it on yourself, Granger. Promise me you won't. I won't be on my game when I'm hunting if I'm worrying that you're endangering yourself."

His earnestness made Hermione realise that he suspected he might not make it out of this alive, for all his cockiness that Dolohov couldn't touch him. She could hear the words he left unspoken. That with him and Astoria already in danger, and his own parents tied up with legal matters, there needed to be one adult in Scorpius's life who wasn't at risk. He needed her to do something she didn't think she'd ever managed to do before. He needed her to forget her own urge to help others to the detriment of herself, and simply keep herself safe.

Hermione wondered if she could do it. She'd never managed in the past. Since she'd been eleven, she'd been putting herself as risk for the sake of helping Harry and fighting against whatever evil thought to lift itself above the world and claim its dominance. She hadn't been able to sit idly by as a teenager in the middle of a war, and she wondered if she could do it now.

It wasn't that it would be any great hardship to make sure that Aurelian and Scorpius were protected and well fed and cared for. She felt certain she could mother both boys in her sleep. But the urge to work on the cure, to try to help, to save her friend and the unborn child in Ginny's womb was almost undeniable. How could she simply hand off the research to someone else for testing?

Then again, Hermione knew she could never administer something to Ginny that she hadn't tested. She wouldn't risk the unborn niece of nephew Ginny carried without being one hundred percent sure that whatever cure she cooked up would save Ginny and the baby. But what if she got there too late? What if the virus claimed too much of Ginny's strength and she miscarried before Hermione could cook up a cure?

"Promise me, Granger," Malfoy pushed when she nibbled her lip and didn't answer him.

"I… can't," Hermione shook her head. "I  _have_  to do something, Malfoy. They're my friends. Harry and Ginny have been trying for months to get pregnant. I can't just sit here and twiddle my thumbs while she suffers."

Malfoy traced his grey eyes over her face for a long moment before he suddenly sat up, pulling away from her and rolling away across the bed. Hermione frowned at his back as he walked away, dressed in only his boxers.

"Malfoy," Hermione frowned, getting out of bed and following him when he crossed the room and entered the bathroom.

"Granger," Malfoy warned in a low voice, keeping his back to her as he reached for his toothbrush.

Hermione noticed that sometime while they'd been sleeping, Chandy must've unpacked her things because her brush was in the cup beside his.

"What? You're not going to talk to me, now?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Malfoy didn't answer, refusing to meet her gaze in the mirror as he doggedly scrubbed his teeth. Sighing, Hermione copied him, and they stood there in tense silence for several minutes as they both brushed their teeth.

"You're angry," Hermione said when she'd washed out her mouth, a little alarmed that even though they were fighting, she felt strangely comfortable standing there in her underwear alongside the wizard.

"I need you safe, Granger," he said in a low voice that kind of made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "I can't do what I need to do to rescue my wife or recover her body if I'm worrying about you. I know you're a bloody saint, and that you struggle with being idle for too long, especially in times when that brilliant brain can be put to use helping others. I understand that. But until I get back, you're the only thing in the world protecting our sons, Hermione. This is all hard enough without worrying that you're going to inadvertently poison yourself, alright? I'm not above confiscating your researching and locking you up in this place where you can't access it if you're not going to look after yourself."

"You wouldn't dare," Hermione challenged, narrowing her eyes.

He turned toward her slowly, his eyes gleaming with utter resolution and stubbornness like she'd never known.

"If you don't swear on your magic that you'll only conduct research and that you won't test anything on yourself, I'm not leaving the research in your reach, Granger. Swear it, or I'll have Chandy Vanish every single leaf of parchment, every note, every lab-culture. All of it. You  _will_  be safe in this house even if I have to strap you to the bloody bed and order the elves and the boys not to release you upon pain of death until I return."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in stubborn challenge.

"Do you imagine you can intimidate me, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione demanded in a reasonable tone edged with ice. "Do you imagine that this battle of wills between us will be overcome with a few cheap threats?"

He put his hands on her so fast that Hermione didn't even see it until suddenly he was cupping her jaw and forcing her backward until her back hit to door. His eyes never left hers as he glared into her face.

"It's not a threat, Granger," he growled. "You're in  _my_  house and my word here is law. You  _will_  promise that you'll be reasonable and that you'll use your fucking head instead of all that stubborn heroism, or I  _will_  have you thrown in the fucking dungeons and have the elves care for the boys."

"Do you imagine blackmail will endear me to you?" Hermione snarled, disliking his threats and his promises and the utter certainty in this voice that on this issue he would not be budged. "You've been professing for weeks that you mean to woo me into courting you now that you're divorced. This is  _not_  the way to do that, Malfoy. If you so much as think about uttering one more threat, I'll never speak to you again. I'll take my son and disappear somewhere you'll never find us."

His laugh when it came was low and angry and it made goosebumps break out across her skin.

"There's nowhere you could go that I won't find you, Hermione," he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, like the deadly caress of a devil's kiss across her psyche. "Now, promise me you'll only conduct your research safely and theoretically and that no matter what breakthroughs you make you will  _not_  test them on yourself."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, aware that her heart was pounding inside her chest and that there was going to be no arguing with him. She could see it in his eyes that he would make good on his promise to throw her in the dungeons of this very house if she didn't promise. She almost hated him for putting her in such a position. She wasn't an idiot, after all. She could compromise. As long as she could still research, she was happy to promise that she wouldn't test the potion on herself. Even if she  _was_  ninety-eight percent certain that she knew how to tweak the potion she'd made to cure the fairies.

There was a part of her that wanted to refuse on principle, but Hermione knew that pushing him when he was already stressed beyond measure would be unkind and probably unwise. His wife was being help prisoner by a monster, after all. What was worse, his mother had been arrested and his father was behind the abduction, and the reason that Dolohov was still alive and still free to commit these vile acts and to threaten Hermione's life alongside Astoria's. He was in the middle of a divorce; he had recently found out he had a second son; and he was sleep-deprived, just like her.

The little voice of good inside Hermione was telling her to go ahead and make the promise. The voice of wickedness dared her to refuse just to see if he'd really lock her up. Huffing out an angry breath and shushing the voice of wickedness, Hermione opened her mouth and answered him.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I promise not to test the cure on myself and not to needlessly endanger myself while you're gone."

She could literally see the way some of the tension bled out of Malfoy as he sighed out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing and his grip on her lightening to a soft caress.

"And," Hermione went on spitefully. "I promise to make you regret ever blackmailing me like this, Malfoy. Mark my words, you'll regret ever daring to threaten me like this."

Malfoy smirked at her.

"I hope it's a long and healthy grudge," he sneered in retort, and she could tell that despite her fury, he was pleased to have gotten his way.

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell and that she hoped he knew he was never going to talk her into courting him, now, but before she could utter a word he leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of them and stealing a searing kiss from her lips that made her forget all about her fury.


	28. Chapter 27

Draco snogged her hard, knowing that if he gave her the chance to really think about how he'd strong-armed her into cooperating, she'd likely slap him or hex him for a fool. Stepping into her, he pushed the length of his body against hers, pressing her up against the bathroom door and sliding his knee between her thighs.

When her hands came up to knot in his hair and she snogged him hotly, Draco knew her temper was rapidly transforming into raging desire and he was only too keen to take advantage of that fact. Tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue, he almost chuckled when she parted them to grant him entrance. Merlin's beard, the zing of magic that shot through him when she traced her tongue against his almost brought Draco to his knees and he wondered if it was even legal to be this attracted to someone you wanted to strangle ninety-five percent of the time.

He didn't even have to think about it as he worked his hands under the hem of her pyjama top, tracing them over her soft skin and relishing the feel of her under his touch. He could tell she was still furious by the way she pulled his hair and bit his lip, but Draco didn't mind. Smirking, he pulled back from snogging her and trailed a burning line of kisses down the side of her neck.

"Bastard," Draco heard her hiss when he nipped her skin before suckling just hard enough to give her a love bite.

Despite the insult, she pulled at him hungrily and Draco knew she was as mad for it as him right in that moment. Merlin, he wanted to ravish her until he couldn't see straight. Shoving her harder against the door, Draco slid his hands down her back and under the waistline of her knickers, gripping her arse in both palms and grinding his cock against the junction of her thighs.

"You're such a git," she moaned, tipping her head back to give him better access and he laved her neck with nips and kisses before finding the sweet spot below her ear and tormenting it mercilessly.

"You fancy me this way," Draco retorted huskily, his worries and frustrations about her stubbornness and her safety sinking beneath a haze of lust that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Never," she huffed, though from the way she ground herself against him, Draco knew it was a lie.

Determined to ravish her, he didn't ask before flicking her knickers off her hips and watching them skid down her legs. Merlin's little green apples, he was going to hard-fuck the witch against the bathroom door until the bloody thing fell off, if he got his way. And he was Draco Malfoy. He always got his way.

"Did I say you could have me?" she challenged, pulling back a little bit and accidentally knocking her head against the door behind her even as she used her grip on his hair to pull his lips from her throat.

Draco raised one sardonic eyebrow at her.

"Did I give you the impression I was asking?" he drawled in retort and she narrowed her eyes on him hatefully.

"Such a bastard," she hissed before pulling his lips back to hers and snogging him soundly.

He kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting every part of her, desperate for more. He wanted to sink into her until every worry plaguing him went away and though he knew he had responsibilities beyond that bathroom and beyond making her come apart at the seams, for the time being he was going to prioritise his own selfish desire to ravish her until the ache in his groin went away.

She stepped out of her knickers to curl one long leg up around his hip, hooking it around him and pulling him closer even as she reached down to slide her hand down the front of his boxers.

Merlin's fucking cats, Draco feared he might come right then and make a complete fool of himself when she wrapped her hand around the length of his cock and squeezed tightly. She worked her hand up and down quickly, almost efficiently, and Draco found himself thinking that one of these days, when he wasn't so furious with her and when she wasn't planning to hex him the minute he let her loose – and maybe even when they didn't have other distractions threatening at every turn – he was going to have to teach her the art of slow, torturous sex. One day, he was going to show her the meaning of toe-curling pleasure. One day he was going to draw out every morsel of pleasure he could conjure within her, savouring every sweet sound and relishing every gasping breath she took.

Today, however, he was going to fuck her until the fizzing stopped and then he was going to chase down his sons, kiss them goodbye, and then hunt down his ex-wife and the psychotic bastard who'd kidnapped her. Today, there wasn't time for agonizingly slow seduction, and if he was being honest, today he just wanted to grind his cock into her until all the worry and fear and anger fizzing in the back of his skull found an outlet.

Smoothing his hand over her hip, Draco dipped it between their bodies, seeking the heat pouring from her core and threatening to scald his skin. Merlin, he wanted her. He wanted her more than his next breath, and the feel of her tongue tangling with his and her body so hungry for his own almost had him coming in his shorts. The way she pumped her hand up and down, and up and down, and up and down his cock so maddeningly, her fist tight, her grip firm but delicious, was going to drive him mad.

"Fucking hell, Granger," he muttered against her lips when he broke their kiss, dizzy and in need of oxygen lest he actually swoon thanks to her touch.

He'd never bloody live that down, he was sure.

She whimpered when he curled his hand to cup her sex, his fingers parting her folds and simply pressing for a moment. He kind of liked the way she ground herself against his hand, desperate for friction. Smirking to himself as he leaned in to kiss his way down the length of her neck once more, Draco burrowed his fingers inside of her, finding her wet and positively brimming with heat. Godric's gonads, he couldn't wait to bury his cock in that tight sheath. Granger whined against his skin, tipping her head as he licked at her fluttering pulse point even as he curled his fingers inside of her, beckoning within her and seeking that spongy little patch of flesh guaranteed to drive her wild.

"Gods, stop teasing, Malfoy," she moaned, bucking upon his fingers and writhing in his grip. Her hand tightened around his cock, pulling him closer by it and Draco didn't bother arguing.

Withdrawing his fingers from within her, he watched the way she canted her hips, intent on guiding him inside of her. Draco let her. Merlin, he had to count to one hundred in Gobbledegook just to keep from coming at the sight of her so wild and so needy. Her curls were beginning to frizz out of control at the tension and the magic building and bubbling under her skin and Draco couldn't resist burying his hands in the wild mass of ringlets as he pulled her mouth to his once more.

The slightly awkward twinge of trying to align their respective parts without looking was forgotten the minute he got the right angle and Draco swallowed her whine of delight when be bucked up into her, lifting her right off her feet with the power of his thrust as he impaled her on his cock. Gods, the heat was like nothing he'd ever known. Tight. Wet. Hot enough to make him think this must be what heaven felt like. Sweet circe, the velvet heat and the sweet, gripping hold of her body clutching his, desperately trying to suck him deeper until he bottomed out was almost more than he could bear.

"Fuck," Draco whispered against her lips, losing his concentration along with his breath at the glorious feel of being inside her.

Her only response was a sweet, breathy sigh and to dig her heel into his arse-cheek, demanding that he move. Gods, Draco wasn't sure he could. Withdrawing slowly was like exquisite torture and he began thinking he might have to re-evaluate his plans of one day torturing her into pleasurable madness. He wasn't so sure he'd ever be able to have this woman in any way that wasn't brimming with tension and heat and fury. Gods, what was slow, romantic love-making compared to a hard, fast, make-your-heart-want-to-explode-out-of-your-chest fucking?

He slammed back into her forcefully, certain her spine was grating on the door when he heard the terrible sound of it doing so, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever. Gods, he could fuck her until the day he died. He wouldn't mind. Not if she would always be this warm and this eager.

"Harder," she breathed against his lips, panting as he worked to a fast-paced, ball-slapping rhythm. She'd gone up on her toes, desperately trying to cant her body to drive him deep, and send him plunging into her harder, faster, even more satisfyingly.

Draco scooped his hands under her arse, lifting her until she wrapped both legs around him. Gods, he hoped the boys didn't come running back into the bedroom. He'd have to tell them a Boggart had invaded the bathroom, with the way they were making the door rattle in it's frame.

He took her hard. Harder that he could ever recall taking a witch. He took her like he wanted to kill her, and like it might be the last time he ever fucked a woman. Merlin, for all he knew, it might be. Dolohov had taken a Vow not to hurt him, but what was to stop him flinging a Killing Curse when he was on the brink of death, himself?

"Fucking hell, Granger," Draco muttered against her neck before tipping his head back, his heart pounding in his chest and his breath coming in sharp hisses.

He could feel her body tightening around him, the tension mounting. He could feel the first fizzes of tingling fire licking through his stomach and sliding down his back. He could feel it gathering at the back of his neck and tightening in his bollocks.

"Fuck," he muttered, concerned he might come before he got her off if she didn't get a move on. "Fuck, Granger. You're so fucking tight."

She only managed a moan in response, her arms looped around the back of his neck, her fingers pulling through his short blond hair. She had her eyes closed, her head tipped back and resting against the door. Her face was pinched into a little frown and Draco almost lost control when she began rhythmically clenching her pelvic floor.

"Bloody hell, I'm going to come," he muttered, and he knew he was doomed when his words had her mouth pulling up into a wicked grin at the corners.

A low groan of effort tore from his lips and Draco wondered what kind if kinky she might be when goosebumps raced over her skin at the sound. She squeezed him tighter and Draco buried his face against her neck, kissing her skin desperately and leaning into her harder so he could worm one hand between them. She squeaked, a soft moan escaping her when Draco pressed his thumb to the little sensitive bean and the top of her sex, pressing it and beginning to work it in rapid circles he snapped his hips, hissing when the scald of heat that raced up from his toes made itself known. There was no holding back, now.

"Oh, gods, Draco," Hermione moaned softly, clamping down around him and squeezing oh, so tightly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Draco snarled, snapping his hips harder and plunging into her as deep as he could. He nipped her shoulder as the heat fizzed within him and shot free to coat her with a mind-boggling haze of lust followed rapidly by a wave of contented sleepiness that threatened to overwhelm him.

He leaned against her for a few long moments, breathing hard and trying to keep his knees from buckling. She loosened her hold on him slowly, carding her fingers through his hair and letting her legs unfurl from around him, apparently intent on freeing him from her folds and on cleaning up the mess they'd made together.

She didn't say anything as he let her down, untangling their bodies until he still leaned against her, but was no longer inside her. Draco wondered how he'd ever forgotten having shagged her when he impregnated her five years ago. He must've been absolutely paninied because there was no other way he could've managed to forget her. Oh, he'd known back then that he'd shagged  _someone_  – the pulled muscles and the claw-marks on his back had told him that much – but she'd been gone long before he'd awoken, and he hadn't really thought much of it beyond being grateful that his conquest of the night had the decency not to linger.

"Move, could you?" Granger asked, pushing against his stomach to create some space between the two of them.

Draco did so reluctantly and watched the way she crossed to the shower, turning the taps on before pulling her shirt off over her head. He wondered how tired and how contented she must feel that she was getting naked in front of him for what was, essentially, the first time. She seemed to have forgotten that he didn't actually remember ever catching sight of her in the fully monty before, and Draco wasn't about to interrupt the view by reminding her. He smirked a little as he turned more fully to appreciate the long, sinuous lines of her body.

Her hair was long, falling most of the way down her back, but Draco certainly enjoyed the sight of her pert bum when she drew the curls over one shoulder and stepped under the hot spray.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, recalling that he hadn't showered yesterday, even after wrestling with the kids when they'd been sick.

He didn't wait for her reply before stripping off the remainder of his clothing and climbing into the shower behind her, looping his arms around her slender frame and moulding himself against her back.

"You're going to get us caught out by the kids," Granger said quietly, tipping her head to one side and letting him dust kisses over her neck and the top of her shoulder.

Draco wondered if the mind-blowing sex had cured her of her annoyance with him for forcing promises out of her that she didn't necessarily want to make, or if she was just biding her time and waiting to unleash the venom of her anger at a later date.

"They'll be fine," Draco said. "The door's locked."

"They're probably terrified in the bedroom, thinking the room is haunted or something, what with the way we rattled that door on it's hinges," she said, leaning back against him and not seeming to mid that he was snuggled up to her while they shared the shower.

Draco was suspicious, wondering if she was feeling alright, given that she'd never willingly remained in his presence for so long without insulting him. Not to mention that he'd forced her to promise him she'd be reasonable in her pursuit of a cure, and she'd been threatening violence before he'd snogged her. He wondered if he'd rocked her world so thoroughly that she'd forgotten her anger, or if perhaps she was simply biding her time and intending to surprise him with retribution at some later moment.

"We'll tell them it was a Boggart if they ask. Hopefully they're running about the Chateaux somewhere and haven't noticed that we're otherwise engaged," Draco said. "Are you alright, Granger? Are you usually think quiet after sex?"

She sighed, leaning against him a little more firmly.

"I'm fine," she answered, inspiring absolutely no confidence in him whatsoever. "Tell me about this place. What do I need to know while you're gone?"

Draco shrugged. "Not that much. Anything you need; food; supplies; Chandy will get it for you. Just tell her what you're after and she'll handle it. I don't want you risking yourself by leaving until Dolohov is found, alright? Other than that, the outside is guarded by Beasts, and the doors and windows won't allow you through the lest you be eaten by those beasts."

"We're on house arrest, then," Granger surmised.

"Only until I return," Draco sighed. "And don't think of it like that anyway. Think it like you're on an extended holiday, and you're not allowed to do anything but relax and completely unwind. Don't look at me like that, either. It's for your own good, Granger. Dolohov might've taken an Unbreakable Vow that will  _hopefully_  prevent him from hurting me or the boys, but he could still kill you."

"What if he goes after my mother?" Granger asked, suddenly tensing in his hold. "He shouldn't have any idea where she lives but… oh, gods. I need to go and fetch her. I need to bring her here."

"I'll get her," Draco said immediately, suspecting that Granger would  _not_  survive the loss of her mother in her life. "As soon as I leave, I'll go to her place and put her on a portkey over here, alright?"

"What if he's already there? Merlin, what if he's already kidnapped her?" Hermione asked, turning in his hold and staring up at him worriedly, her tone growing more urgent by the second. She pushed against him, apparently intent on vacating the shower and rescuing the woman immediately. Draco sighed, knowing that meant that the after-shag snuggling was officially over.

"I'll get her back," Draco promised. "If he's taken her, I'll get her back."

Granger looked like she couldn't bare to just sit quietly where it was safe and where she couldn't do everything in her not inconsiderable power to protect her mother.

"Please go now," she said. "Gods, I can't stay here. I  _have_ get her, Draco. I  _have_  to."

"I'll go," Draco said, drying off with a flick of his wand before he strolled into the bedroom in his towel, intent on raiding the cupboards for something to wear.

The house was fully stocked with everything he and his parents, and indeed Scorpius and Astoria, too, could ever need or want and Draco was grateful for that fact as he dressed hurriedly while Granger began raiding the cupboard the things Chandy had unpacked from her trunk. He didn't bother suggesting that wait until after breakfast. If he didn't leave immediately, he suspected Granger would take off on her own and he didn't want to risk that for a single second.

"Come on," he said when they were both respectably clad in enough clothing to protect their modesty and cover all the fun bits. "Let me find the boys and say goodbye, and then I'll be off to fetch you mother."

"You will come back?" Granger wanted to know, letting him take her by the hand and pull her quickly down the hall, intent on finding the children.

"Not until after I find Astoria and kill Dolohov," Draco shook his head. "And fair warning, Granger, I'm going to have Chandy keep an eye on you while I'm gone. If she catches you breaking your promise, or working yourself too hard, she's got my full permission to do whatever is necessary to protect you from yourself."

"If you set a house elf on me, I swear to Merlin, Draco Malfoy, you  _will_  regret it," Granger snapped, narrowing her eyes on him.

Draco couldn't help the low laugh that burbled free of him at her fierce expression and she seemed both indignant and somewhat startled when he cupped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her into him and kissing her firmly on the lips.

"Never change, Granger," he said when he pulled back, grinning into her surprised face for a moment.

Before he could say anything else, the sound of two miniature wizards stampeding into the room filled his ears and Draco released Hermione just in time to be barrelled into by both of his sons so forcefully that the pair of little blighters took his right off his feet.

"Oi!" he protested, hitting the ground rather hard and immediately set upon by the pair of little ferals. "Watch it, eh?"

"Daddy, can we stay here forever?" Aurelian immediately asked, climbing all over him and inadvertently stepping on first his hand, and then uncomfortably close to his tender parts.

"Please, Daddy, can we?" Scorpius added his plea to the cacophony of sound two small children managed to make.

"Of course, you can," Draco nodded. "You three are going to stay here while I fetch your grandmothers – both of them – and you're going to take very good care of your mother, alright, Aurey?"

Aurelian darted a look up at Granger, who was looking on with a strangely fond expression on her face that rather gave Draco hope that she might warm up to him in time, after all.

"Where are you going, Daddy?" Aurelian wanted to know.

"Scorp's Mummy's in a bit of trouble, and I have to go and help her out," Draco told the boy. "Be good for your mother while I'm gone, and look after your brother, won't you? Scorpius, do you promise to look after Aurelian and Miss Hermione?"

"Yes, Daddy," both boys chimed, nodding their little heads.

"Good," Draco said before pulling Aurelian into a tight cuddle, hoping to Merlin it wouldn't be too long before he'd see them all again.

When he released the boy - who began squirming almost immediately after being pulled close – Draco hugged Scorpius, too.

"Run on and harass Chandy for something to eat, won't you boys?" he said, and he shook his head fondly when Aurelian instigated a race to see who could reach the kitchen the fastest even though Draco was certain neither of them knew the way.

Climbing to his feet once more, Draco regarded Granger for a moment in silence.

"Well," he said. "I'd best be off. I'll send your mother over as soon as I can."

She nodded, her eyes darting between each of his.

"You will come back, won't you?" she asked, frowning at him suddenly.

"'Course I will," Draco nodded.

"In one piece, Malfoy. Don't do anything reckless, alright? Dolohov isn't some magical creature you're Hunting. He's dangerous, he's volatile, and he's a lot smarter than I'm comfortable with. Don't forget that it'll be no easy thing to drag you're sorry, bleeding, burned, or poisoned self along home to me for healing, this time. It's an uncomfortably long portkey, at the very least."

"If he attacks me, he'll die."

"So will you," Granger said. "And if pushed far enough, knowing he's going to die regardless, he  _will_  take you down with him, Draco. Just… be careful, you hear?"

"Worried for me, love?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling at her fondly.

"I…" she bit her lip, her cheeks turning pink as she lowered her eyes to look down at her bare feet for a long moment. "I need you to come back, Malfoy. Just promise you won't do anything stupid."

Draco found it rather endearing, actually, seeing her so reluctant to admit she was worried about him, and he rather looked forward to the utter earful he'd catch when he returned at the end of this mess. He'd learned not so very long ago that every time she berated him for getting injured in the field it was because she was worried for him, but he got the feeling that this time it was a bit more than her usual amount of worry.

"I'll be back, Hermione," Draco chuckled softly. "And when I am, you and I might just have to convince those boys that this entire house is filled with Boggarts. Every single bloody room, yeah?"

She looked up, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, even as her blush darkened.

"You're incorrigible," she informed him.

Draco smirked at her.

"You love it," he said.

She shook her head at him, but she didn't stop smiling either. Draco leaned in and stole a soft, lingering kiss from her lips before pulling back once more.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, before activating the portkey on his pendant that would drag him back across the channel.

Granger's worried eyes were the last thing he saw before everything began to blur.


	29. Chapter 28

Rita Skeeter eyed the morning copy of the  _Daily Prophet_ with no small amount of distaste and annoyance. Plastered across the front cover was a picture of the ever-stunning Narcissa Malfoy being escorted in handcuffs by no less than the Head of the Auror Department, Harry Potter, and the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, as she was led into custody.

According to the story – written by one of her far-inferior fellow reporters on the news of the day – Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass had turned up missing and Narcissa had been arrested for the crime. Rita frowned at the image over her morning waffles as she read that, according to the article, Narcissa had been the last one to see the young woman alive.

Except, well, that was exactly true, now was it?

Rita perused the article and the others like it that all touched on the matter of the morning, the scandal gripping the wizarding world in a choke-hold to see so poised and rich a woman potentially fall. Her own article that she'd been drafting to share with every paper who would print it was far more detailed, and far juicer about the inner workings of the Malfoy family and their closely guarded secrets. Indeed, this hogwash was just the perfect platform to set the scene for the exposé she planned to unleash. However, it brought forth one minor detail that she wasn't sure she wanted getting out.

To her knowledge, Narcissa Malfoy hadn't been the last one to see Astoria alive. No, as far as Rita knew, that honour belong to none other Rita Magdalena Penelope Skeeter, herself. And while she was, of course, innocent, it had to be said that Harry Potter was hardly her biggest fan. He was extremely unlikely to believe anything she might have to say. She could hardly go waltzing into the MLE and announce that she'd seen Narcissa leave the room without attacking her daughter-in-law, and that Rita herself had conversed with Astoria before also leaving, unimpeded and unburdened by the unwell woman.

Frowning at the photograph of Narcissa, Rita wondered what she ought to do. Little could come of her confessing that she'd been in the room at the time when Narcissa had left. Indeed, doing so would likely incriminate her as an illegal Animagus. Potter, thus far, had refrained from prosecuting her and from giving away her secret to her success, but she didn't think he'd manage to keep it off the record if she strolled right in and confessed that she'd been the literal bug on the wall in Astoria's hospital room.

After all, if wasn't her responsibility to provide Narcissa with an alibi, and better to profit from selling the story as everyone vied to get their hands on all the juicy details and expose her knowledge of it all that way. Let Potter come to her, as it were. Yes, she'd very much enjoy watching that wretched boy swallow his pride and approach her for answers when Narcissa's arrest proved to be a waste of time.

Oh!

Rita reached for her quill as an idea suddenly struck her to include a few pointed comments about the inadequacy of the Auror department to have arrested the innocent and 'grieving' mother-in-law of the victim. Yes, Rita very much looked forward to exposing the Malfoy's for the pack of ridiculous liars and she most certainly wouldn't mind taking a few pot shots at Harry James Potter to remind him that for all his fame, he'd found himself in a position where public opinion could carry a whole lot of sway. He might not be elected by the people, but if enough people were shouting about incompetence to have incorrectly arrested the wrong woman while the culprit of this kidnapping was still at large, well, the Minister for Magic might have to intercede.

Yes, Rita was going to have a glorious time reminding these ridiculous people that words really could hurt. Scribbling out the additions to her story that she would fine-tune later, Rita hummed happily to herself without a care in the world for the grief, anger and fear the Malfoy family were undoubtedly feeling right at that moment.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Lucius Malfoy was positively seething in his office at the Manor, pacing backwards and forwards and he muttered angrily to himself. Much to his fury, Potter and Shacklebolt had refused to release Narcissa from their custody and would continue to refuse it until, by law, they either had to charge her with a crime or set her loose.

How the foolish woman had managed to ignore his advice so thoroughly as to have absolutely no alibi regarding her whereabouts at the time of Astoria's disappearance was beyond him. To make matters worse, Draco was wretchedly involved, and it seemed clear that telling him that Dolohov was behind the kidnapping seemed rather a foolish thing that he had done. Lucius's head was still aching from the blow Draco had struck him, his eye bruised and swollen, and his cheek sporting a shallow cut thanks to the insignia ring of their prestigious family adorning his son's fist.

Despite those grievances, Lucius's real fury was focused solely on the fact that he'd just recently found out he had a half-blood grandson and that Hermione Mudblood Fucking Granger was its mother. To make matters worse, Draco knew, and Narcissa fucking knew, and neither of them had told him until Draco had snarled it at him in his office in the height of his panic about Narcissa's arrest.

Merlin's bloody bollocks, this could not be happening. He had just managed to clean up the scandal of Astoria being a foolish little trollop who'd cuckolded her husband. And now Granger was sauntering her filthy mudblood self into his life as the mother of his firstborn grandson. It couldn't be fucking happening. Lucius was ropable.

How could Draco have let this happen? Worse, according to his son, his wife had known about it for fucking years! YEARS! The woman had crawled into bed beside him every night whilst sitting on the knowledge that they had a half-blood grandson and that Draco had boinked a bloody Mudblood. Lucius almost wished he hadn't made Dolohov vow not to hurt his wife or anyone with Malfoy blood. He could hardly have Dolohov kill the child off now, not without him breaking his bloody Vow.

Granger, of course, was another matter entirely, but Lucius suspected Draco had taken steps to protect the little bitch, already. Of course, he had. He'd been mad for her for bloody years. Lucius wasn't blind. He'd known that despite his ultimatums, Draco's intrigue with the woman hadn't been squashed just because Lucius had forbade the romance. He'd never imagined the boy would defy him so much as to shag the little bitch, and even in his darkest nightmares, he'd never imagined Draco would impregnate the filthy mudblood.

He'd have to kill her.

Of course, that wouldn't go over well, and while Dolohov might be counted on to handle Granger in addition to Astoria, that still left the problem of the half-blood grandson tainting their perfectly pure line with his very existence. Then again, Narcissa had been meeting the witch in secret for five accursed years. She must be fond of the little bitch, too, and the last thing he needed was to have his already furious wife plotting his demise should he kill of the girl she'd decided would be a perfect match for their son. Perhaps he might need to re-evaluate his intentions until after he'd had a time to pry the truth from Narcissa about what in the hell was going on. Until then, there was little he could do beyond pacing back and forth across his office whilst imbibing entirely too much whiskey.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Wendy Granger almost leaped out of her skin to find Draco Malfoy invading her home at an ungodly hour of the morning.

"Draco?" she frowned at the young man who'd sired her grandson when he apparated directly into her living room despite his never having been to her house before, to her knowledge. "What are you doing here, dear?"

"I need you to pack some clothes immediately, Mrs Granger," Draco said seriously, his face grave.

"Why?" she asked, her stomach clenching in knots at his sombre expression and his tight tone. "Oh, God. Has something happened to Hermione?"

"Hermione and Aurelian are safe," he shook his head, holding up a placating hand to reassure her that they were fine and that that wasn't the cause for his alarm. "However, my ex-wife has been kidnapped by a man who has already attempted to murder Hermione once. He knows where you live, and he will target you to get at Hermione when he can't get his hands on her, directly. Pack some things and I'll take you to Hermione so that you'll be out of his reach and will be safe. I need you to do it quickly, else your daughter will risk her safety by ignoring my directives and following me here to collect you, herself."

In the past, Wendy might've argued or asked more questions as to why there was such urgency and why he'd come alone and why some whack-job might be targeting her or Hermione, but after years of interacting with the magical world, Wendy had decided it was simply best to do what was asked and ask her questions later. Indeed, Draco looked ready to apparate her to where he'd hidden Hermione without waiting for her to pack anything, so she supposed that if she wanted some clean knickers to take with her, she'd better just save her questions for when she was reunited with her daughter.

"Let me get my trunk," she said, beckoning him to follow her as she hurried up the stairs and fished the suitcase from under her bed before hastily throwing things into it. "Will I need to pack warmly?"

"Bring something for every climate," he said seriously. "I can't tell you where you'll be located, but you'll need to be prepared for warmth and cold. I don't know how long you might have to be in hiding. You'll have access to a phone if you need to make arrangements regarding your personal life after you arrive, should you need to hide out for an extended period."

"There's no time to even call anyone?" she frowned, knowing that her friend would worry if she didn't meet them for lunch later, as she'd planned.

"The longer it takes you to pack, the longer I'm delayed in hunting down the man who has very likely murdered my ex-wife," Draco informed her and the tone in his voice suggested that the things he might do to such a man would turn her stomach. Indeed, his expression rather terrified her, and Wendy suddenly understood why her daughter had spent so long warning her that Draco was cold and not a nice man.

"Oh dear," Wendy blinked, before beginning to toss things into her trunk willy-nilly supposing that whatever she was without, she could make do. Hermione would be there, and the girl was a gem for using her magic to make the best of things; she could transfigure garments for her, if need be.

"Ready?" Draco asked when she snapped the trunk closed.

"Let me just get my shoes on, dear," she said, hurrying over to her cupboard and stuffing her feet into her shoes.

"Alright, good," he said. "Now, I don't know if you've ever used a Port-Key before, but I want you to hold onto this as tightly as you can, alright?"

He handed her what looked like crystal paper-weight in the shape of a coiled serpent.

"What will it do?" she asked fearfully.

"It'll transport you to Hermione," Draco told her. "Hold your trunk tightly, and don't drop the port-key, alright? Hermione will explain everything when you arrive. You're going to experience a lot of spinning, so don't be alarmed if you vomit when you land. I've travelled this way many times, and I still vomit, on occasion."

"Oh, dear God," Wendy paled, frowning at the young man for his blunt honesty and thinking that she'd really rather have just dealt with the consequences than having to worry over them before they occurred. She loathed suffering twice.

"Ready?" he asked, eyeing her seriously and showing no hint of sympathy for her fear at his intended means of magical travel. "Three. Two. One.  _Portus_."

He touched his wand to the object she clutched, and Wendy was rather ashamed to admit that she screamed when she began to spin like a top, around and around and around until she was dizzy and sick to her stomach.


	30. Chapter 29

Pain lanced through her midsection as the vile wizard collapsed on top of her, breathing hard and crushing her against the unforgiving mattress of her prison cell.

"Please," she whispered, pushing at the wizard who, for all that he was hurting her as he sprawled atop her, really didn't weigh all that much.

Antonin Dolohov lifted to look down at Astoria Malfoy, peering into her face curiously for the soft, pained plea.

"What do you want, witch?" he asked, his accent thick alongside his contentment following his brutal violation of her.

"You're crushing the baby," Astoria gasped. "Please, it hurts."

Antonin frowned, having forgotten for the umpteenth time that she was already pregnant. She didn't look it. She wasn't showing in the slightest, not even a faint bump.

"You don't look pregnant, girl," he said lifting off her until he was on his hands and knees, still peering intently into her face.

"I'm sick, because of it," she managed.

Antonin knew that. He'd been watching her vomiting and crying and wasting away no matter that he kept her well fed and watered, for all that she was his prisoner. After all, Lucius had only charged him with expunging the girl from their lives. He didn't  _have_  to kill her. And he'd spent far too long rotting in jail cells without access to the soft sweet flesh of a woman writhing under him. This one writhed oh so sweetly when she let go of her terror and her hatred for him and just gave into the sensations he pushed on her time and time again. It was just as well she was already bed-ridden, because she'd have been walking bowlegged if she could drag her carcass from the mattress.

"I could cure you, you know?" he offered. "'Course, losing that sprog would cure you, you know?"

"You can't take my baby from me," she gasped, her eyes wide and her face brightening to a ruddy red with her fury.

Oh, Antonin liked that. Fuck, he loved when she got a little colour in her pale cheeks and looked ready to rip his tongue from his head and to curse his hands from the ends of his wrists. She didn't have her wand, of course, and she was so weak that she couldn't even fight him off anymore, but he looked forward to the day she could. And she would, eventually. She didn't know it, yet, but this witch had a fire in her soul that just needed to be ignited. She hadn't hit rock-bottom yet, where potent and deadly rage tended to lurk. He hadn't broken her down that low, yet.

But he would.

Merlin as his witness, Antonin would break her until she was as cruel and twisted as him. And he reckoned that forcing her to miscarry that fucking sprog would be the bombshell to blast her down into the pits of hell where anger and darkness and so much hatred lurked, awaiting their next vessel.

"What are you going to do to stop me,  _koshechka_?" he purred, leaning closer and pinching a bruising kiss from her lips before she could reply.

"I'll… I'll…" she stammered, her eyes narrowed, her hands moving up to cup her belly protectively.

"You'll what?" he taunted, sneering into her face and grinding his hardening cock between her legs once more, making her wince thanks to the chafing from repeated abuse. "What are you going to do,  _kulkolka_?"

She tried to scramble out from under him, but Antonin pinned her legs with his lower half.

"Come on, Greengrass," he murmured into her face, his dark eyes searching her expression for some hint of fury. "I know you've got a monster in your soul waiting to burst free and rip me limb from limb. What've I got to do to lure it out of you?"

"Please let me go," she breathed, her eyes filling with tears.

Antonin's temper flared at her pathetic weakness.

"Never!" he hissed into her face furiously before drawing back from her, raising his closed fist and slamming it as hard as he could against the fullness of her womb, revelling in her screams of agony and the slash of her nails as they cut into his right cheek.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco Malfoy prowled the length of Knocturn Alley, his eyes scanning the dark corners and forgotten nooks for any sign of someone he could blackmail into giving up Dolohov. He knew the bastard had been here. Draco had stopped by the safehouse he'd expected the man to run to when he'd gained his freedom and he'd found it recently used but abandoned.

His former mentor in Death Eater etiquette and how to be a bastard had many tricks up his sleeve and Draco's arm was throbbing thanks to the residual curses left on every item in the room. He'd foolishly picked up a discarded cloak while he'd been in the flat and he'd paid the price for it.

Movement out the corner of his eye caught Draco's attention as he made to turn the corner in the alley and Draco lunged, wand out and his free hand closing over the throat of his victim.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Draco drawled cruelly. "Long time, no see, eh Scabior?"

The former Snatcher gasped for air, clutching at his throat and trying to pry Draco's hand from his neck in order to regain access to vital oxygen. Draco didn't let up, shoving the man up against the stone wall of one of the decrepit buildings still standing in Knockturn Alley since the latest MLE raid.

"Where's Dolohov, Scabior?" Draco demanded, in no mood for small talk or for beating around the bush. He had a wizard to find and a cheating ex-wife to rescue before it was too late for her, if it wasn't already.

"D-Dolohov?" Scabior rasped when Draco let up on his throat just enough to allow him to speak.

"Don't play dumb, Scabior," Draco hissed. "I know he's biologically your father. I know he'd have called on you when he was finally set loose. Where is he hiding?"

Scabior's eyes went wide at the mention of his little-known paternity, not one for such secrets to have been bandied about. There was a twisted connection between this wizard, Dolohov, and their intense obsession with Hermione Granger, and Draco was thinking that it might be high time this particular scumbag be clapped into irons once and for all.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Scabior said. "Dolohov is dead. Has been for years."

"Don't lie to me," Draco hissed into his face. "I've been by the loft above Tofty's. I know you've been there recently."

"What? How?" Scabior scowled. "I didn't leave no trace of me'self."

"You left your foul stink of clove cigarettes and your magical signature all over those discarded robes," Draco retorted.

Scabior smirked.

"Got you, did they?" he sneered looking amused.

"Does the hand choking you feel weakened?" Draco raised one eyebrow.

"Dolohov cursed 'em, not me," Scabior argued, frowning.

"He's lost a few steps. Rotting in the dungeons deep beneath the Manor for seven long years with only the darkness and the rats to talk to will do that to a man," Draco smirked. "Where is he?"

"How should I know, eh?" Scabior shrugged. "Just 'cause he's my Dad don't mean he tells me what he's up to, do it? Disappeared, he did. Said something about a vow to old Lucius and took off. Haven't seen him in at least a week."

"Are you lying?" Draco demanded.

"'Course not," Scabior shrugged. "What've I got to lie about, eh? If he's keeping a vow to your Dad, what're you huntin' him for, anyhow?"

Draco narrowed his eyes on the wretched bastard, certain he was lying and not about to risk having him running back to Dolohov to tell him he was coming for him. And the bastard would if Draco let him go.

" _Crucio_ ," Draco hissed, releasing Scabior's throat and stepping back as the bastard began to writhe, sliding down the wall and beginning to scream.

A few of the folks perusing the alley looked over, but when they spotted him, they all looked away quickly. He might've gone straight in regard to his job with the DRCMC and flipping on the other Death Eaters who'd sided with the Dark Lord, but Draco was by no means a saint and what influence his money and reputation hadn't afforded him had been carved out by displaying the many, many lessons Antonin Dolohov had bestowed upon him before the war had ended.

He might've been telling the truth to Granger that there had been times when he'd been forced to retreat to the safe house in France to keep his life, but he was no slouch and he didn't run for it easily, these days. More often than not those who took issue with his loyalties, his past, and his continued existence tended to meet with the business end of his wand and the Cruciatus curse was hardly the only weapon in his arsenal against the wretches and filth that still stained the underbelly of the wizarding world.

Scabior's screams echoed down the alley loud enough that it would be a miracle if the Aurors weren't immediately alerted. Draco didn't have time to deal with the bastards doing a poor job of locating his missing ex-wife and he let up on the curse when Scabior hit the filthy cobblestones at his feet. Glaring down at the wretch, Draco kept his wand trained on the other wizard threateningly.

"Where is Dolohov?" He hissed.

Scabior was breathing hard, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Aunt Bella had tutored Draco well in the art of torture, and he knew that suffering the Cruciatus curse under his wand was one of the most excruciating things a man could ever endure. He knew Scabior to be a pathetic wimp, too. He'd give up after another bout of the curse, Draco reckoned, but he'd see if one round had been enough.

"I don't know," Scabior gasped raggedly. "I swear I don't. He took off on me last week. Ain't seen him since."

"Where would he go next?" Draco demanded. "You and I both know he's kidnapped my wife. Where would he take her?"

"You were his protégé, not me, Malfoy," Scabior grunted. "You tell me where he'd take a victim to torture her into madness."

" _Crucio_!" Draco spat and the ear-splitting screams that echoed throughout the alley did nothing to cool Draco's rapidly rising temper. He focused intently on Scabior as he tortured him, holding the wretched thoughts of pain and violence firmly in the forefront of his mind to better ensure his victim endured all of them.

"Kent!" Scabior squealed after several long minutes. "He said something about the weather in Kent this time of year."

Draco lifted the curse and lunged down, seizing the wizard by the throat.

"If you're lying, I'll be back for you, Scabior," he threatened in a low, dangerous voice.

Too exhausted to fight or sneer, Scabior only nodded in agreement.

Disapparating whilst still clutching the bastard, Draco appeared in the middle of the Ministry offices for the MLE, startling several Aurors so badly that they threw a few hexes in Draco's direction. Steering his captive around in front of himself, Scabior slumped to the floor when the took several Stunning spells in quick succession.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy," Potter grumbled when he realised who it was. "What the bloody hell are you playing at? You don't have the authority to apparate directly into MLE headquarters. And blimey, who've you just used as a human shield?"

"Scabior," Draco shrugged, letting the man he spoke of slump to the floor at his feet. "He's just confessed to me that he knows who kidnapped Astoria, and where to locate him."

"What?" Potter asked, clearly shocked. "Why would he know? Why would he confess?"

"I can be very persuasive, Potter. Interrogate him and release my mother immediately. And when you do, please inform her that the rest of my family is in the safest place possible."

"What do you mean? Where are you going? Malfoy, I need to interrogate  _you_! There's a warrant out for your arrest. Where the hell have you been? And what's wrong with your hand? What do you mean the rest of your family? Your father is here at the Ministry…. Wait… Where's Hermione? Malfoy! OI! YOU CAN'T JUST…!"

Potter's shout was cut off when Draco pointed indicatively at the slumped form of Scabior before turning on the spot and disapparating for Kent, knowing exactly the hovel Scabior meant when he'd spoken of it. The idea that Dolohov had brought Astoria here was beyond imagining and Draco narrowed his eyes as he landed in the field by the river, hidden away from prying muggle eyes by protective enchantments that had stood all throughout Dolohov's stint in Azkaban, and even his lodgings at the Manor.

Glaring hatefully at the location of the hut where it knew it to be beyond the enchantments and dangerous wards, Draco paced slowly around the perimeter, muttering every spell he knew, and every curse-break charm Dolohov had once taught him. He needed to get inside, and soon. If he'd brought Astoria here, then Dolohov meant business. Dirty, wretched, rapey kinds of business. He'd once gloatingly confessed to Draco whilst dragging Draco with him to check on a prisoner during the war that this was his favourite spot to bring the victims of his sexual assaults.

Those he wanted to play with before he grew bored and killed them. What was even more horrifying was that Draco knew exactly how many poor souls had met their sticky end under Dolohov's filthy hands and under his unforgiving wand in that hovel. He lined them up and buried them with proud little gravestones at the edge of the river, on the hill overlooking the water.

_One last, pretty view of the world before they leave their Earthly troubles behind_ , Dolohov had once told Draco when he'd looked on and counted in horror the some forty headstone all in a row on that hillside.

Astoria would not be one of them, Draco vowed. When he was finished this hut would be burned to the ground, its charred husk remaining as a bitter warning to any who dared imagine they could take what was his. And Astoria might be his ex-wife now, but she was the mother of his child and she would be  _his_  until the day he died. Draco had never been one to share those possessions he called his own and no matter the things she'd done, Draco vowed silently on that hillside that if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass didn't become headstone forty-one overlooking that fucking river.

"If you've touched her, I'll kill you, you bastard," Draco breathed hatefully as he began the arduous process of peeling back thick warding that protected the building from intruders and prevented those held captive within from ever escaping.

He'd never loathed anyone more than Dolohov in that moment and he hated all the more the fact that Dolohov was a tricky cunt and a bloody whizz at spell-work. But Draco had been a diligent pupil under Dolohov's tutelage, and with painstaking care he peeled back the wards one at a time. He only hoped he wouldn't be too late to rescue the woman he'd married from a terrible fate.


	31. Chapter 30

Hermione Granger sighed when she managed to finally get her mother settled into one of the guest bedrooms of Malfoy Chateuax, as she'd taken to privately calling it in her head given its French location. The woman had been beside herself with questions since the moment she'd arrived about just why Hermione had gone into hiding and sent Malfoy to fetch Wendy, before being beside herself with worry and even more questions about the fate of Astoria, and the history between Hermione and Dolohov, and what might become of the baby Astoria carried.

She'd been exhausted, having not taken to long-distance Portkey travel very well at all – Hermione wasn't sure even Elf-magic would ever get all the vomit out of the rug in the entrance hall - and by the time Wendy had been settled into bed with some dry crackers to nibble on in the hopes of settling her stomach, Hermione felt rather exhausted, too. She hadn't had a spare moment to even get her bearings since Malfoy had accosted her in the middle of the night the day before, sweeping them off to this place where they would supposedly be safe. When she leaned against the bedroom door of her mother's suite, she rather thought she'd better figure out what had become of the boys even though all she wanted to do was crawl back into bed and catch up on a few hours of rest. She sighed a second time, hoping the boys hadn't been causing trouble anywhere, though she doubted they'd have managed to get into too much mischief under Chandy's watchful supervision.

The elf, Hermione suspected, was going to be the only thing to keep her sane in the coming days. Already the knowledge that though the gardens looked beautiful and though it was shaping up to be a fine day in Paris, she couldn't leave the house was already making her feel claustrophobic. She wanted to get out and she pushed away from the door to her mother's room with a third, heavy sigh, forcing herself to move down the corridor and into one of the wider rooms of the house lest she think herself into a panic attack.

She couldn't deny as she strolled through the room, forcing herself to take deep, slow breaths, that the house was lovely. Much lighter and airier than she recalled Malfoy Manor being, though whether that was the perpetual Parisian sunlight streaming in through the enormous arched windows lining every wall of the exterior and flooding the place with light or just some skilful decorating on Narcissa's part, Hermione couldn't be sure.

"Chandy?" Hermione called quietly, summoning the elf too her as she looked out over one of the sprawling gardens to the east of the estate and spied a cerebus slumbering under one of the large old oak trees.

"Miss? Chandy asked, popping into the room behind Hermione.

"Where are the boys?" Hermione asked.

"Master Scorpius and Master Aurelian be in the kitchen, Miss," the elf informed her. "They be eating their breakfast and playing with toy dragons."

Hermione nodded.

"Ok, good. Thank you, Chandy."

The elf tutted, clearly affronted by the thanks.

"The Miss be having breakfast too?" Chandy asked. "Though it be closer to lunch, now. Miss hungry?"

"I suppose I'm a little peckish, Chandy," Hermione admitted, turning toward the small creature and sighing again, her exhaustion making her think that a nice long nap might be in order for the afternoon. "Would you mind showing me the way to the kitchen?"

The elf looked rather like she wanted to call Hermione an idiot for thinking she might mind doing anything that was asked of her in the line of service, but instead she simply bowed, flapping her bat-like ears before turning and leading Hermione off through the house. She followed obediently behind the elf, not bothering to try and make small talk. She had the strangest sense that Chandy didn't like her very much, though whether that had to do with Hermione's crusade for fair rights for House Elves, or if it was because Hermione was shagging Malfoy even though he was probably, technically, still married to Astoria, Hermione couldn't be sure.

After all, no matter that Narcissa had showed up at her place with a signed bill of divorcement mere moments before being arrested, Astoria could hardly be considered to be acting without duress. What was more, scribbling on the parchment didn't automatically mean the marriage was over. In a legal sense, the papers would need to be filed, reviewed by the courts, and eventually passed off. Typically, most cases for divorce in Britain could take up to twelve months to be fully processed in a legal sense. Certainly, Draco and Astoria had both been shagging other people even before the papers had been signed – though only Draco had the legal right to do so thanks to Narcissa's tricky contract drafting; something Hermione suspected she might very soon be grateful for when all this hit the press offices. But that did not negate that legally they would be married until the divorce was approved by a governing body.

Hermione wondered what might happen if Dolohov killed Astoria before Draco could rescue her and she wondered what the Malfoy family, as a whole, might say and do if and when that should happen. She rather hated the idea of being mixed up in the mess at all, and as Hermione made her way into the kitchen where the two young sons of Draco Malfoy were playing with toy dragons, roaring at one another and otherwise looking for all the world like perfectly functioning siblings, she couldn't help thinking that no matter their happiness, and no matter the shag she and Malfoy had shared upstairs, she rather would've preferred to have stayed far away from all this mess.

She didn't want to be unkind and she felt a wave of guilt to even think that she wished she knew nothing of Astoria's circumstances, but by the gods, she was sure she'd been happier when the only interaction she had with the Malfoy family consisted of work days spent arguing with Draco, and a fortnightly cup of tea with Narcissa. Nothing more. Merlin, she felt like a complete cow for thinking it, but she really did wish things could go back to the way they'd been before, back when Draco hadn't known about Aurelian being his son and she hadn't been mixed up in the fact that Astoria was having an affair with Adrian Pucey.

"Pancakes or waffles, Miss?" Chandy asked, startling Hermione out of her thoughts and making her blink rapidly.

"Waffles, Mummy," Aurey piped up. "Waffles are better.

"Pancakes are better," Scorpius argued, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at his brother.

"Waffles!" Aurey disagreed, glaring at Scorpius and Hermione spotted the impending fight a mile off.

She bit her lip, thinking desperately of something she could say or do to stop the fight, certain that no matter what she picked, someone was going to end up in tears.

"Actually, I think I'd just prefer toast," Hermione admitted. "Can I please have beans on toast, Chandy?"

The elf put her hands on her hips and clucked her tongue judgementally, clearly seeing her poor attempt to stave off the argument for exactly what it was and disapproving. Hermione wondered how such a rude elf could still be in the employ of the Malfoy's when she dared to look so bloody condescending.

"Beans on toast are boring, Mum," Aurey informed her, scuttling over and pulling himself up into one of the breakfast-bar stools beside her when she sat in one of them in preparation to eat.

"They're not boring, love," Hermione told him. "They're tasty, and they're easy. And they're what I feel like this morning."

Chandy clucked her tongue all the more, but she made the beans on toast for Hermione nonetheless.

"Waffles are better," Aurelian told her.

"I like waffles and pancakes, both, Aurelian," Hermione told him. "You need not choose between them, darling. Scorpius is welcome to prefer pancakes, and you're welcome to prefer waffles. Both are tasty."

Aurelian opened his mouth like he might argue some more, but before he could, Chandy brought over Hermione's breakfast.

"Is Gran alright, Mum?" Aurey asked, frowning into her face for a long moment. "What's she doing here? Why are we here? When can we go home? I want to see Teddy."

Hermione sighed. She should've known the questions wouldn't end just because her mother had gone to bed.

"You'll be able to see Teddy when we go home, Aurey. Gran is fine, though she's tired and she was a bit unwell, like you and Scorpius were after we took the Portkey to get here."

"She vomited?" Aurey asked, raising his little eyebrows at her and looking like he was caught somewhere between being sympathetic and amused.

"She did," Hermione nodded. "But she's alright now. Draco gave her quite a fright when he went to collect her and she was worried about why we've come here."

"Why  _have_  we come here, Mummy?" Aurelian wanted to know. "I was sleeping at home, and then you woke me up and we spun and spun, and now we're here."

Hermione raised her eyebrows before sighing once more before taking a few bites of her breakfast and wondering if there was something she could do to stave off their questions. She didn't want to lie to the children, but she could hardly tell them the truth. Hermione frowned a little, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't terrify them, and more importantly, something that they would understand. They were so very young, after all.

"We're here to keep us safe, Aurey," Hermione said finally after several minutes of the boy staring at her and waiting for her to respond, having learned that nagging her would only get himself in trouble.

"Safe?" Aurelian asked. "Did one of your creatures get out, Mummy?"

Hermione smiled in spite of the gravity of the situation.

"No, darling," Hermione chuckled a bit. "No, Mummy's creatures are safe in their enclosures."

"Then why are were here?" Aurelian wanted to know. "Is it because Aunt Ginny and Scorp's Mum have been sick? Are they contaneous, I mean, contagious?"

"Well," Hermione frowned a little. "They  _are_  contagious, but not to you. And Mummy has already been sick with a milder strain of what they have. But I'm working on a cure, darling. And I will continue to work on it while we're here, so I'll need you to be very good for Gran when I'm working, alright?"

Aurelian nodded.

"But that's not the only reason we're here?" he confirmed, reminding Hermione that he was a very perceptive boy and making her think that maybe she wasn't botching this parenting thing as much as she often feared she was.

"No, darling," Hermione sighed. "Do you remember when I told you about how Mummy and Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron and the rest of the wizarding world were at war when I was at Hogwarts?"

Aurelian nodded, and Hermione noticed that Scorpius was listening intently though she suspected he'd been a bit more sheltered about the war. She didn't imagine that Draco, Lucius, or Narcissa wanted to tell him about it too early on in life when they hadn't been in the best position during the war.

"Do you remember that Mummy told you about the scar on her chest?" she asked, lifting her shirt to reveal her stomach and her bra to her young son, letting him see the purple scar that cut diagonally across her chest.

"Dolohov?" Aurelian whispered, uttering the name like it was a terrible curse that he knew he ought not to speak.

Hermione nodded.

"I thought you said he was dead, Mummy?" Aurelian said, his eyes wide with fear.

"I thought he was, Aurey," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "But it seems I was wrong. He's not dead, and in fact, he's stirring up some trouble in the wizarding world. We've come here so that he won't be able to find us, just in case he tries to hurt Mummy, again."

Aurelian looked absolutely terrified and Hermione barely managed to put down her cutlery and catch the boy when he flung himself into her arms.

"How long do we have to stay?" Aurelian wanted to know.

"Until he's caught, darling. Dra… Daddy's gone to help Uncle Harry and the Aurors hunt him down so that they can arrest him and put him in Azkaban where he can't hurt anyone else anymore."

"Does he have my Mummy?" Scorpius piped up at that moment and Hermione's heart constricted inside her chest.

She bit her lip, looking over at Chandy for a moment before she frowned and looked back at the small boy.

"We're not sure, Scorpius. That's what Daddy's gone to find out. Dolohov  _might_  have abducted her, or she might be somewhere else entirely."

"Is this why Mrs Malfoy was arrested?" Aurelian asked, frowning at her. "Do they think she'd helping him? Mrs Malfoy would never help criminals."

Hermione pressed her lips together on correcting him, not wanting to ruin his childhood adoration for his grandmother when he was really too young to understand nuances like obligation and blackmail.

"Mrs Malfoy was the last one to visit Astoria at the hospital before she disappeared," Hermione explained to the children. "I'm sure she had nothing to do with Astoria being gone, and that she would never help Dolohov do anything, my loves. Uncle Harry will ask her some questions to make sure that she's not responsible for anything, and then he'll let her go. She'll come to see us here when she can, I'm sure."

"And until then, we have to stay here?"Aurelain said.

"That's right," Hermione nodded.

"Will Daddy be coming back soon?" Scorpius wanted to know, frowning worriedly.

Hermione didn't blame the child. He might've spent an inordinate amount of time sleeping in her house alongside Aurey when things were unpleasant at the Manor and when they just had sleepovers for fun, but it couldn't be good for so small a boy to be without everyone in his family that he relied on. Draco might be angling to one day make her Scorpius's step-mother, but she didn't doubt that Scorpius probably very much wanted his mother, his father, or either of his paternal grandparents, given that he usually lived with them.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon, Scorpius," Hermione assured the child. "Maybe in a few days. If he's not back by then, I'm sure that your grandfather will go looking for him."

Scorpius didn't look very happy with the idea, and Hermione didn't blame him. If Malfoy wasn't back in a few days, she might say to hell with his plan of keeping her safe beyond Dolohov's reach and hunt the bastard down herself.

"Until then, we stay here?" Aurelian confirmed.

"That's right, darling," Hermione nodded. "Why don't you two run along and play. I'm sure there's a bedroom full of toys somewhere in this house that Chandy will be able to show to you. You can both run and play. Let Mummy worry about when Daddy will be back and how we're going to make Astoria and Aunt Ginny all better, alright?"

The boys did as they were told to the symphony of huffing sighs emitted by Chandy, who seemed more and more put out by Hermione's presence by the minute. Hermione didn't pay the elf any mind as she polished off the rest of her breakfast before tossing up between the urge to return to bed for a nap, and the urge to dive back into her research so that should Draco manage to locate Astoria alive, she might cure the witch before the virus infecting her body got the best of her or robbed her of the child growing in her womb.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Potter, this is really getting beyond ridiculous, now," Narcissa Malfoy huffed, folding her arms over her chest and beginning to tap her high-heeled boot on the floor of the interview room impatiently. "You have a man in custody who has confessed that he has seen Antonin Dolohov alive. Moreover, you have the same man's confession that Astoria is in Dolohov's custody. I do not doubt that Draco, at this very moment, is putting his skills as a Hunter for the DRCMC to very good use and hunting down that wretch. Surely your time would be better spent locating my son before he becomes a murderer?"

"I do believe that ship has already sailed, Narcissa," Harry said quietly, eyeing her seriously from the far side of the interview table she'd been handcuffed to for over twelve hours now, barring one short bathroom break.

"You're accusing Draco of murder?" Narcissa hissed, leaning forward and placing her perfectly manicured hands on the table to glare at the boy whose life had once been balanced precariously in her grip.

"He fought in the war just like the rest of us, Narcissa," Harry reminded her. "And I  _know_  that there was a time when Draco was being mentored by Dolohov in how to be a more ruthless and effective Death Eater."

"Potter, is this really the time to dredge up ancient history?" Narcissa snapped. "My daughter in law has been snatched away by a monster who has a sordid and terrible history of murder, rape, and brutality, and yet you sit here, yammering on at me about things long past. What are you trying to prove? Do you know how it will look when Draco is the one to save his wife – or more likely, to recover her corpse – while the head of the MLE is wasting time interviewing a perfectly innocent woman?"

"Go over it with me one more time, Narcissa," Harry growled, leaning forwards and glaring at her in return. "Tell me everything you did on the day of Astoria's disappearance."

"Must I repeat myself?" Narcissa demanded.

Potter narrowed his eyes, just daring her to push him into a temper and Narcissa was sorely tempted to do it, knowing that if she pushed him hard enough that he got physical with her or went for his wand unprovoked, she would be allowed to walk free.

"It was a day like any other," she snapped, supposing that if she wanted to have some hope of Draco and Hermione marrying once this was all over, she might need the young woman's best friend on board with the idea. "I got up, showered, had breakfast with Lucius, Draco, and Scorpius. Draco and Lucius went off to work for the day and I remained at the Manor for a few hours before meeting with Galina Greengrass for our monthly nail and hair appointment."

"Why did you interrupt the appointment to drag Galina off to see Astoria in the hospital?" Harry asked, scowling at her fiercely as though he knew that she held a collection of secrets tightly in her fists.

"Because she's my daughter-in-law and she's been in the hospital," Narcissa answered drolly.

"Galina insists that you interrupted the appointment claiming it was prudent you check on Astoria and that you felt something was amiss," Potter said. "Would you say that she lied when she said as much?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes to slits, thinking that they should've set Dolohov on Galina, rather than Astoria.

"I felt something was wrong and we went to check on her," Narcissa shrugged. "Perhaps there is a little Seer magic in my bloodline."

"Your bloodline," Harry clucked his tongue, looking over the thick folder in front of him that contained the notes pertaining to this case in addition to the file the MLE had on her for her past interviews and past crimes. "You know, before Sirius died, he told me that one of the reasons he was never given a fair trail before they locked him up on the false accusation of selling my Mum and Dad to Voldemort and murdering Pettigrew was because it's a well known fact that those of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black are trained in the art of deception and coached on how to pass strenuous interviewing by the MLE. He said that when he was a teenager his parents put him through a program that basically guaranteed he could lie his way out of any crime, and that he'd been trained to resist the effects of Veritaserum. That everyone of the Black bloodline undertook this training. Is that true?"

"I hardly see how that is relevant," Narcissa sniffed, unwilling to compromise her testimony by admitting that she could lie her way out of hell, if she had to.

"It's relevant because I have a missing person on my hands. I have a testimony claiming that you hinted that Astoria might be in danger before you went to see her, where that witness was subjected to a Stunning spell leaving you as the last person to see Astoria Greegrass before she disappeared. It's further relevant because I have another testimony that claims that Antonin Dolohov was the one to abduct Astoria, and that he did so on Lucius's order. Scabior specifically said that Dolohov had snatched Astoria in accordance with an Unbreakable Vow he was fulfilling to Lucius to expunge the girl from your lives."

"Ptarmigan Scabior is hardly a reliable source of information, Potter. Indeed, I wonder that he was running free in the first place. How on Earth did you come across him in this mess? I rather thought he'd died during the war."

"Draco deposited him in MLE custody a few hours ago before disapparating without allowing me to question him and in full knowledge that there is a warrant out for his arrest."

"Draco's wanted for questioning? You've put a warrant out on him?"

"His wife has been kidnapped and he's disappeared off the face of the Earth," Potter snapped. "Now, I'm only going to say this once, Mrs Malfoy, and I do it only out of respect for the fact that I owe you a life-debt. If you don't give me your full cooperation with this case, I will administer Veritaserum, I will test Sirius's theory that every member of the Black family learns to overcome its effects, and I will pry the truth from between those perfectly painted lips until you confess your every sin to me, madam."

"Why are looking for Draco?" Narcissa asked, heedless of his warning. "What was he doing hunting down Scabior?"

"He's likely hunting down Dolohov. Or, perhaps he's in league with him. Do you have reason to believe that Astoria was conducting and affair with Adrian Pucey?"

Narcissa scowled.

"Yes," she hissed, knowing full well that Granger had told him it was so.

"Did Draco know she was having an affair? Did he have reason to believe that the child she carries is not his?"

"Yes," Narcissa growled, rapidly losing her temper now that he'd threatened her son. Didn't he know that the  _only_  reason he was still alive to torment her in this manner was because she was willing to defy the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time for the sake of her son?

"Do you have reason to believe that Draco wanted Astoria killed for her affair?" Potter asked.

"No," Narcissa replied. "He very firmly stated that he would not permit the girl to he harmed for the affair, and that he would divorce her properly and without a fuss. She signed the divorce papers before I left the hospital, and I had them in my possession when you arrested me.

"Do you have reason to believe that Lucius wanted Astoria killed?" Potter asked, and Narcissa narrowed her eyes when she caught the way he left off the clarification of wanting her killed for the affair. Lucius, she was sure, didn't give a flying fuck about the affair. He just hadn't wanted his business dealings to be investigated.

"I believe he thought that the girl would make quite a fuss legally, insisting on fighting for custody of Scorpius and likely winning given that she does not work and she is the boy's mother."

"Answer the question, Narcissa. Did Lucius blackmail, bribe, threaten, or make a deal with Antonin Dolohov to have Astoria removed from your lives?"

Damn him and his sharpness to have refrained from saying killed.

"I do not involve myself in my husband's dealing, Potter," Narcissa sniffed.

"Mrs Malfoy, if you're found to have had knowledge of this plan when I question you under the influence of Truth Potion, you will have committed perjury, and might be charged with conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to kidnap, or even as an accessory to the crime."

Narcissa's lips twitched in response to the threat.

'You and I both know that isn't true, Potter," Narcissa said quietly, her smirk growing. "I have not and cannot be found guilty of perjury because I am not on a stand in front of the Wizengamot and because the questions you are asking pertain to my husband. Spousal privilege means I don't have to say a word and cannot incriminate him or myself unless I confess to something. I cannot be found to have committed conspiracy without confessing to something, and even if your accusations about Lucius are true, you would need evidence to arrest me for that crime, which you do not have and will not find. Neither can I be found as an accessory to kidnapping or murder because, to our knowledge, Astoria is not yet dead. I have provided an alibi for the time I left the hospital, unaccompanied, and you have undoubtedly corroborated it with hospital staff. All you have on me is the hysterical and false accusations of an overwrought mother who is fearful for her child, and the accusations of a known criminal with questionable integrity, questionable parentage, and a questionable IQ.  _If_  it were the case that my husband had conspired to have my daughter-in-law kidnapped and I had knowledge of it, you could not legally compel me to speak on it. You, Potter, have absolutely nothing you can use against me to make me cooperate."

"You confess, then, that you do not wish to cooperate with the MLE?" Potter growled, his eyes narrowed to angry slits that she was well versed in the law.

"I  _have_  cooperated, Potter. I have told you where I was, who I saw and what I did leading up to and following the girl's disappearance. I have confessed to knowledge of the girl's affair, provided you the name of her lover, and yet you have done nothing. If you truly believe she has been taken by Dolohov and you are sitting here interviewing me rather than hunting that man down, you are going to lose your post as Head Auror, Mr Potter. Believe me, if that girl should turn up dead, this will be the very last case you ever work on."

"Are you threatening my career?" he demanded.

"No, Harry Potter," Narcissa hissed, leaning as far across the table and into his face as she could whilst still handcuffed to it. "I'm threatening your very existence. I went to the hospital that day to check on my daughter in law fearing something would happen to her, and now it has. If you waste one more minute trying to throw the book at me rather than following Draco and rescuing Astoria before it's too late, either for Astoria – whom Dolohov will undoubtedly murder - or for Draco's conscience when he murders Dolohov for this crime, I will make sure that you never work another day in your life. You will leave the MLE a disgrace to the name of Auror and whatever glory you have amassed for yourself as the vaunted hero who saved the wizarding world from the Dark Lord will mean nothing by the time I am through with you. Do you understand? If my son's conscience is compromised with the black stain of committing a murder in retribution for his wife's abduction or death, I will make it my mission in life to destroy you. You won't need to worry about your career. You'll have to spend more time worrying about your life."

"Narcissa, threatening an Auror is grounds for arrest, did you know that?" Potter snarled.

"Then arrest me, boy," Narcissa spat. "Arrest me, or let me loose. The time within which you can legally detain me without charging me of a crime has just expired, along with my patience for your questions."

"For fuck's sake, Narcissa, do you  _want_  Astoria to die? Potter demanded.

"I want you to leave this office, go to Kent, and arrest Dolohov yourself, rescuing my daughter in law and protecting my son from his own rage," Narcissa retorted.

Potter froze.

"Kent?" he demanded, raising both eyebrows.

"Oh, come now, Mr Potter," Narcissa clucked her tongue. "Do you imagine that throughout the war I spent my time resting on my laurels? Do you imagine I don't know every secret of every witch or wizard who dared to cross the threshold of my home? The curse of being a beautiful woman in a world full of arrogant men, Mr Potter, is that drunk men like to chat up pretty witches. Married or not, every Death Eater who passed through Malfoy Manor had a few too many drinks and got chatty with me. And I can be very persuasive when convincing others to part with their secrets. What's more, Antonin Dolohov was charged by the Dark Lord with training my Draco in the art of becoming a ruthless and violent lunatic. Do you imagine I don't know every single one of that man's hidey-holes? If he has truly kidnapped Astoria, you will find her in a small hut overlooking the river in Kent. Alongside her, you will find the marked graves of no less than forty women whom he brutally raped and tortured before murdering them and burying them there. He is very proud of his hovel of evil, Potter, and if he has caught his next victim, that is where he will be."

"Does Draco know of its existence?"

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, but offered no answer, not intending to incriminate Draco anymore or willing to risk making him an accessory to whichever girls Dolohov murdered during the time when he'd been training Draco.

"Bloody hell," Potter said, running his hands through his hair. "Draco's already got several hours head-start. If he really is there, you might be right. I might be too late."

Narcissa harrumphed, studying her perfectly manicured nails and very pointedly  _not_  saying 'I told you so', no matter how badly she wanted to.

"Where in Kent?" he demanded.

"By the river?" Narcissa said. "In the one place where muggles never venture. You will see it. It is not a grand dwelling, but even Gringotts or Hogwarts is not so well warded as that gateway into hell, Potter."

"What do you mean?" Potter frowned.

"I expect Draco  _might_  be just about peeling back the final layers of warding if he went straight there following his abandonment of Scabior here," Narcissa replied. "Antonin Dolohov, before Azkaban and the Dark Lord, was a Curse Breaker. He worked for Gringotts, and Azkaban, designing the complex layering of warding that protects our societies fortunes, and keeps our prisoners so well contained. And his little hovel was the crown jewel in his life of crime. It is where he hides all of the bodies, and where he entertains his darkest fantasies. Think of the devil in his fiery pit. He does not wish to be found, and only one who has been trained by him will ever truly get in. Even Draco may not possess the skill to dismantle those wards."

"You lured all of this out of him by getting him drunk?" Harry frowned at her.

"How else might I have gotten the information?"

"Maybe Draco told you? Maybe he's in league with Dolohov? Maybe you tortured it out of him? I don't know, Mrs Malfoy. You are an incredibly complex witch, and I do not believe there is anything you wouldn't do to protect your son."

Narcissa's lips twitched into a sly grin at his rather grim and deflated seeming summation.

"That, Mr Potter, is the only thing I  _will_  confess to. Draco is everything to me."

Potter nodded, frowning at her for a long minute.

"Well," he said. "I suppose I'd better rouse the best team I can and get on over to Kent, then."

Narcissa rolled her eyes at his awkward way of excusing himself, noting that he left the door to her room open and eyeing the small witch with eyes too large for her head that trailed into the room to unchain her. Whoever she was, Narcissa doubted she would last long with the MLE. She looked terrified as she crossed to unchain Narcissa from the desk, clearly thinking Narcissa might lunge at her.

Were she Bellatrix, she might've done so; maybe bitten or headbutted the small, twitchy witch. But she was not her sister, and so instead Narcissa simply sniffed disdainfully as she rose to her feet and stalked out of the holding cell, her heels clicking on the stone floors rather like the ominous and ever ticking hands of the clock counting down the remaining seconds of Astoria Malfoy's life.


	32. Chapter 31

Hermione Granger was anticipating an entirely calm and uneventful morning on her second day within the French Malfoy residence. Having spent most of the previous afternoon touring the estate with Chandy clucking her tongue and huffing every time the boys ran through the house or shouted too loudly, there wasn't all that much to occupy her time outside of the library, and the demands of two small boys. Of course, there was also her mother to contend with, but individually none of those things demanded so much of her as to rouse her to a state beyond slightly perturbed, at the very worst. She planned to spend most of the day seeing to her research while her mother looked after the children, the need to find a cure for Ginny gnawing at her psyche with a relentless burn.

Of course, Hermione's anticipations and hopes were all utterly dashed when the large screech owl carrying the British  _Daily Prophet_  swooped right through the open, and supposedly well-warded window of the chateau. The delivery of the morning paper, ordinarily, wasn't cause for any real alarm, but today wasn't just any day, and the paper today wasn't just reporting on any old story.

Narcissa's arrest had, naturally, been reported upon extensively, and so Hermione ought not to have been surprised that there was further speculation following the woman's release from MLE custody yesterday evening. But it seemed that someone had gotten hold of every juicy detail of the sordid tale surrounding Astoria's illness, her disappearance, Narcissa's arrest... everything.

Hermione's eyes widened when she spotted the name of the plucky reporter who'd landed such a controversial story and dared to piss of the Malfoys by actually reporting it, before she narrowed them to slits. Rita fucking Skeeter! Of course that wretched little bug had been flitting around, just waiting to drag everyone through the mud. Huffing angrily, Hermione ripped the paper open to the double-page spread and began to read, unaware of the sparkles of purple magic crackling angrily through her riotous curls.

**_DEVASTATED, DIVORCED, DISAPPEARED, DEAD? – ASTORIA MALFOY'S DYING CONFESSIONS_ **

_Contrary to the run-of-the-mill garbage surrounding the recent arrest of one, Narcissa Druella Cassiopeia Malfoy nee Black, the complex and troublesome truths surrounding the downfall and subsequent disappearance of Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass are about to be revealed. In a daring interview just minutes before her disappearance, Astoria Malfoy confessed to investigative journalist, Rita Skeeter, all the dark secrets hiding in the Malfoy family closet._

_Blackmail, torrid affairs, a love-child or two and a wicked plot to silence one impending divorcee, this tale's got it all, so hang onto your hippogriffs, ladies and gentlewizards, you'll never believe the things the Malfoys don't want you to know._

_In late 2002, Draco Lucius Malfoy wedded Astoria Galina Greengrass and for four years they lived, seemingly, in wedded bliss. But even the best kept secrets will eventually come to light and in a tell-all interview, Astoria confessed that things were not at all as they seemed. While to the outside world they presented a unified front of a happily married couple, in the shadows, things were not quite so cheerful._

_Draco Malfoy, it turns out, has all the warmth of a merman, and would sooner skirt-chase and lust after a colleague than his own stunning wife. Bereft of the touch and attention of her husband, Astoria confessed to this reporter that she has been carrying on an affair with none other than her high-school sweetheart, Adrian Pucey!_

_You read it here first, folks! First love really is the one that lasts, and Astoria confirmed that Adrian, not Draco, is the father of the baby she currently carries. No word yet on how Magdalene Pucey is taking the news of her husband's affair, but sources say that Adrian has known about Astoria's pregnancy for months, though he hasn't once broken cover to call on her at the hospital despite the debilitating virus crippling the pregnant witches of the wizard world._

_Until as early as last month, Astoria's husband, Draco, had no idea about the affair Astoria was carrying on in secret, but sources say that when he found out he did not take it well. Perhaps if he'd paid a little more attention to his wife, and spent a little less time lusting after esteemed war heroine and colleague, Hermione Granger, he'd have noticed the many secrets being concealed around him._

_To add insult to injury for our supposedly happily couple, it turns out that Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco and Astoria is, in fact, not the first-born heir to the Malfoy fortune. Oh, no, folks! That acclaimed birthright belongs to secretly conceived love-child, Aurelian Granger! In a shocking twist, which Astoria confessed to knowing about for months, it turns out that while Narcissa Malfoy and Galina Greengrass were squabbling over prenuptial agreements and betrothal contracts, and Astoria was delightedly preparing for her wedding day, Draco was off seducing Hermione Granger into bed with him._

_In a thrilling cat-fight between Narcissa and Astoria, this reporter was able to confirm that Narcissa, at least, has known about the boy from the beginning, going so far as so visit with the muggleborn witch and her half-blood grandson every fortnight! Sources say Draco had no idea that's Granger's son was his progeny until a few short weeks ago, Narcissa having concealed it from the wizard in a bigoted attempt to maintain the purity of the Malfoy bloodline and to ensure that Draco married Astoria and produced a more legitimate heir! Meanwhile Astoria, having guessed at Aurelian's paternity, spitefully sat on the information lest Draco use it as a means to divorce her in pursuit of the woman he clearly prefers._

_Draco, unfortunately, cannot entirely be faulted for being unaware of the boy's existence, as even this dedicated reporter could find no trace of evidence to suggest the tot's paternity. Evidence that Hermione Granger is, and likely always has been, far better at outwitting the Ministry safe-guards in place to keep us all well-protected in these troubling times. How she managed it a mystery, but anyone who has cross Ms Granger will know that trifling with her or going against her will always ends in dire consequences._

_Aside, of course, from the stunning resemblance between half-brothers Aurelian Granger and Scorpius Malfoy (see photos on page 4) there was not a shred of evidence to indicate that Miss Granger's son had a father at all. Amid such a twisted and torrid tale of betrayal, infidelity, and star-crossed lovers gone wrong, is it any wonder that Astoria and Draco were tail-spinning for divorce?_

_Meanwhile, the Magical Law Enforcement department head, Harry Potter, arrested Narcissa when Astoria disappeared from her hospital bed three days ago - as usual chasing down the wrong suspect until the real answer is shoved under his nose. Not to completely disregard his caution, this reporter has it on good authority that the discreetly drawn up divorce contract – the first in Malfoy family history – was signed under duress and via the blackmail of poor, delirious Astoria on her death-bed at St Mungo's. Hand delivered by Narcissa, possibly the last person to see Astoria alive, the divorce papers were signed under the heavily implied threat that if she didn't go quietly, Astoria might not live to become the first woman in wizarding history to divorce a Malfoy heir._

_The question becomes, who is responsible for her disappearance? The seemingly guilty mother-in-law, Narcissa, who thought to warn the girl, or to blackmail her - I'll let you decide the intention behind Narcissa's final visit - and left with a signed divorce contract but without violence? The jilted husband, Draco, who learned of his wife's infidelity and perhaps took it very poorly, indeed? The reputation obsessed father-in-law, Lucius, determined to ensure that nothing so scandalous as a divorce would ever grace the Malfoy family history books? Perhaps the seemingly uninterested mother of the first-born Malfoy heir, Hermione, seeking to clear the way to bear the title of Lady Malfoy, herself? Or perchance the vengeful, cuckolded wife of Astoria's philanderer in crime, Adrian Pucey's spouse, Magdalena? Might Adrian, Astoria's torrid lover, be the one responsible for her disappearance?_

_Has Astoria even truly disappeared under suspicious circumstances? At present both Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have also been noted missing from their place of employment. What do you think folks? A twisted bonding session over the murder of the woman standing in the way of their passionate love affair? Or a poorly timed expedition into the world of ménage a trois?_

_The MLE will, undoubtedly, bumble their way to an answer, but fear not, rabid readers, Rita Skeeter will be following the story every step of the way._

"Oh, the utter nerve of that bitch!" Hermione snarled, accidentally ripping the paper in her fury as she reached the end of the report and spotted pictures of Aurelian and Scorpius playing together in her office at the Ministry – the resemblance between them as obvious as teats on a bull.

"Hermione, love? Language," her mother admonished over her morning cup of tea and Hermione growled incoherently, rattling her newspaper angrily. "What is it, dear?"

"That… that vile…. I'll kill her," Hermione declared, hopping off her stool. "We had a bargain and she just ripped it wide open. I swear to Merlin I'll have her back in the bloody jar so fast she won't have time to say 'Quidditch'! How  _dare_  she report on the paternity of my son? How dare she share his name in the papers without my permission? The nerve of her, suggesting that Malfoy and I might be murdering Astoria, or worse, all shacked up, the three of us! I'll rip every hair from her fake blonde head."

"Hermione, sweetheart, you're scaring the children," Wendy Granger admonished her quietly, putting a hand on Hermione's arm as though to calm her, nervously eyeing the crackling purple magic racing through Hermione's curls that were causing it to rapidly frizz out of control. "You're not going to kill anyone, love. Now, just take a deep breath and calm down."

"Calm down!" Hermione hissed. "Calm down? Read this, mother, and then you tell me if you think I should be calm!"

She thrust the paper, tattered though it now happened to be, into her mother's grip before stomping out of the room intent on dressing in her best bug squashing clothes and transfiguring a jar big enough to hold the most vile, evil, wretched cockroach in all the world for the rest of her miserable life!

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

On a hillside in Kent, Draco Malfoy felt the prickle of the morning sun caress the back of this neck as it began to rise. All throughout the night he had worked, sweating his way through carefully peeling back every last ward that protected Dolohov's house of torture. He was tired, and he was angry. His stomach was in knots, anxious over how long it had taken him to peel them all away. Merlin, he'd be lucky if Astoria wasn't dead, by now.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," he muttered for the millionth time, scowling at the hut as he gave his wand a jerking, twisty sort of jab that felled the final ward protecting the dwelling – one designed to roast any who crossed its threshold into nice crispy barbeque.

Gingerly stepping across the wards that, though they'd been invisible, might as well have been real-life stone walls, Draco shook himself at the chill that washed over him to enter the devil's lair. The sense of dark magic and evil that seeped from the very earth of this Merlin forsaken place made him feel like he was right back on the floor of the Manor, cowering beneath the Dark Lord's wand as he hadn't since the end of the war.

He needed to rescue his wife, Merlin curse it all. Shaking off the exhaustion permeating his limbs thanks to two rounds of intense, long-distance Portkey travel combined with the strenuous, sleepless night that had followed several highly unrested nights, Draco was tired.

He almost wondered if he ought to wait; to come back tomorrow when he was better rested and less likely to slip up. After all, the process had taken so long to avoid tipping Dolohov off to his invasion. He wanted the element of surprise when he burst in there, wand blazing, hexes flying. He was no fool. No amount of training to fight with fantastic beasts throughout the length of his comparatively short career could contend with the skills of a Curse Breaker who'd worshipped at Lord Voldemort's feet and learned every trick, honed every skill, and reveled in the deepest of darknesses.

Part of him knew that this might very well be the last sunrise he would ever see and as he looked out over the river and spied all those moss-covered headstones by the water, Draco wondered if he ought to have appreciated the dawn a little more. He imagined that if he didn't live to see tomorrow's, he would regret it.

No.

He couldn't think that way.  _He_  hadn't spent seven years rotting in a dungeon. He'd been honing his skills as a Hunter. He'd survived attacks from Dragons and Selkies and Jabberwalkies, and an extremely irate Hermione Granger. He could do this. He'd go in there, kill the bastard threatening his family once and for all, and then he'd be able to rest. Draco vowed silently as his eyes traced those headstones that he would not be among those tallied as the body-count on this property when the MLE finally arrived.

Holding his wand aloft, Draco stalked forward, being careful where he put his feet lest a crumpling leaf or cracking twig alert Dolohov that he was under siege. When he reached the door to the hut, Draco took a final, steadying breath, his hand on the doorknob. He turned it carefully, wincing when it squeaked just a little. Realizing it was now or never, Draco flung open the door and burst in, firing off a  _Petrificus Totalus_  in the hopes that luck might be on his side and he might manage to stun everyone in the room into stillness. If she was alive, Astoria would surely forgive being temporarily petrified when she realized she'd been rescued.

His shield up, Draco ran into inside, his eyes scanning the single-roomed dwelling desperately for signs of his wife. The manacled bed; the tray of butcher's equipment; the bloodied and slightly rusty instruments; they were the same as the ones he recalled from his nightmares of this place. His stomach twisting in terrible knots and bile rising in his throat, Draco's wand-arm fell slack at his side, his shoulders hunching before he bent doubt and vomited on the floor when he discovered only the mangled and rotting corpse of a young woman, both her body and the instruments of torture that had brought about her death covered in a thick layer of dust that told Draco one horrible, terrifying fact.

Dolohov wasn't there.

He'd picked the wrong fucking hut!


	33. Chapter 32

Harry Potter and his team of skilled Aurors stormed the hillside in Kent when a small and dilapidated house suddenly swam into view as they were searching the banks of the river for the dwelling Narcissa had mentioned. He found himself hoping that the hut had appeared because they had moved close enough to activate the wards, but when he saw a solitary figure stumble out the door and onto the grass, a hand gripped into his silvery blond hair and a cry of furious despair emanating from within him, Harry got the feeling that Malfoy's presence had more to do with their ability to see the hut than anything else.

From the looks of him, things inside weren't pretty, either. Running as hard as he could, Harry scaled the hillside quickly, racing toward Draco Malfoy until he reached his side. He had his wand trained on him, wary of how he might react, what he might've seen, and his part in the entire mess surrounding Astoria's disappearance. As he looked at Malfoy, Harry couldn't un-see the boys they'd been at Hogwarts and the angry adolescents they'd been during the war, always at odds. There was a part of him that wanted to believe that Malfoy was all tangled up in the mess, but when he saw the ashen shade of Draco's face all he could recall was the same colour on his face during the war when He, Ron, and Hermione had been dragged to Malfoy Manor.

His eyes, when he looked over in panicked surprise, were the same widened, terrified eyes he'd looked into when Lucius had been urging him to identify Harry, so they could summon Voldemort.

"She's not here," Malfoy said, his voice thick, his fist clenching in his hair so hard it was in danger of ripping out strands. "They're not here, Potter."

Even as he said so, Harry's team were storming the building, their wands held aloft.

"Where are they?" Harry asked quietly, lowering his wand when he realised Malfoy wasn't intending to fight.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I don't… he's going to kill her, Potter. He's raping her; probably torturing her. Merlin, I almost hope he kills her, when I know the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" Harry asked, frowning.

Malfoy's low laugh bordered on hysterical.

"He likes to toy with people, Potter," Malfoy said quietly. "Like a cat with a ball of yarn, he enjoys tormenting them. Biting; clawing; kicking; shredding. He likes to take people apart to find out what they're made of. If he doesn't kill her, he'll do something so much worse…. He'll poke and prod and pulverise every shred of her sanity and her humanity until she's as mad as him. He loves it when they fight, and Astoria's not a fighter. Not unless you really push her. Not unless she's protecting something she values more than her own life. He'll destroy that witch until the shell left behind is as twisted and broken as he is."

Harry shook his head, wanting to ask him how he knew that, but almost not daring.

"Boss?" one of his team, Mullins, called out.

Harry turned to look at him, frowning.

"There's a body inside, sir. Partially decomposed. She's been here a long time," Mullins said, looking a little green around the gills.

"Her name was Sarah," Draco spoke quietly, looking back toward the house.

Harry looked over at him sharply.

"How do you know?" he asked, lifting his wand once more.

Malfoy raised his hand and pointed to something across the hillside and Harry frowned, following his finger before he blanched in horror. Narcissa had spoken the truth about the mass grave, it seemed. There, all in a row overlooking the water, were a collection of headstones. No flowers marked the graves, and moss grew thick on the headstones, obscuring some of the names. Right at the end, closest to the hut, stood a slightly moss-encrusted headstone that bore the name Sarah Wilks. Beneath the name was the year of her birth, though the death date hadn't been etched, yet. The grave the stone marked was empty, though it hardly looked freshly dug.

"She starved to death," Malfoy said quietly. "He left her here, likely to attend the Final Battle, and afterward he was in hiding, and then imprisoned. Who knows how long she laid on that table, broken, bleeding, her wounds festering and her belly aching before her hunger drove her out of whatever was left of her mind."

Harry winced at the type of death he described, knowing he would never wish such a fate on even his most loathed enemies.

"Why are you here, Draco?" Harry asked quietly. "You must know how this looks…"

"You're going to question me about them…" Malfoy nodded. "I know. It looks bad. A mass of graves, a tortured girl who's been rotting on a table for seven years. A house of torment and pain… I expect you've got many questions you'll want answers for when you arrest me. But not yet… I have to find her, Potter."

"You have to come in to the MLE office," Harry told him. "There's a warrant out for your arrest. You're wanted for questioning over Astoria's disappearance. Hermione is wanted for questioning as well. Do you know where she is?"

"Safe," Draco nodded. "Her and the boys are safe, far away where Dolohov can't get them. I have to…. I have to find her. I have to save her. I have to kill him, Potter."

When Draco met his gaze, he looked like a man possessed, burning with a terrible fear and hatred the likes of which Harry had never seen before. He almost recoiled at the expression Malfoy wore.

"Where would he take her?" Potter asked. "If not here, then where? You were his trainee during the war. Did he ever tell you of another place he would take his victims?"

Malfoy shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing before he looked toward the river.

"He never mentioned… he… but he's a rat, Potter. He's got hidey holes all over the world to scurry back to," Malfoy said. "He…"

Suddenly Draco drew in a deep breath, his head jerking up and Harry lifted his wand a little higher, lest he lose control or do something stupid. Harry heard some of his fellow Aurors give a shout when Malfoy suddenly lunged at him, seizing his wrist in an iron grip before he Disapparated the pair of them with a resounding crack.

The trip seemed abnormally long, and Harry grunted and stumbled when the feel of being forced through a straw receded as he was dumped onto the uneven earth inside what looked very much like the Dark Forest at Hogwarts. He squinted against the dark of the shady forest and he frowned when he saw Malfoy straightening his slightly rumpled robes and squaring his shoulders.

He really did look like hell, Harry noticed even as he trained his wand on the other wizard once more.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Harry demanded, suspecting he was going to catch hell from the MLE for letting a suspect in an abduction case essentially abduct him, too.

"He's here," Malfoy said in a low voice before lifting his finger to his lips and holding it there in the universally recognised signal for quiet.

"Dolohov?" Harry asked, lowering his voice to a whisper and darting a look around the deserted clearing.

Malfoy nodded, beckoning him to follow as he held his wand aloft. He went left from the small clearing, stepping carefully over debris and the roots of trees lest even the smallest sound alert Dolohov of their presence.

"Won't it be warded like the last place?" Harry asked, knowing from the look of Malfoy and from what Narcissa had told him that Dolohov would, undoubtedly, have warded any property he was inhabiting.

"Maybe," Malfoy murmured, his voice seeming loud in the quiet of the forest. It occurred to Harry idly that even the birds were quiet, and he rather doubted it was due to his and Malfoy's presence in their midst.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose to stand on end the further they walked through the forest and Harry wondered if Malfoy actually knew where he was going of if this was all an elaborate plot to kill him off and get away with the crime. Not that it would work very well, given that everyone at the Kent property would've seen Draco grab him. Of course, whether they found his body out here in the woods was another matter entirely and you couldn't pin a murder on a man without a body. He'd learned that the hard way throughout his career.

"Potter?" Malfoy spoke up quietly when they walked for almost half an hour, making Harry think that Malfoy had apparated them in far enough away to avoid triggering any wards, and to avoid the crack of apparating alerting Dolohov to their presence.

"What?" Harry frowned.

"When we get in there," Malfoy said, turning toward him slowly and casting a light misting spell to show Harry the dome of protective warding that guarded seemingly nothing. "I'm going to need you to let me handle this my way, alright? I don't want you charging in and arresting anyone. Dolohov will  _not_  make it out of that bunker alive, and it would be for the best if you remained out here so that you have plausible deniability regarding just what became of Dolohov's body."

Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked seriously at Malfoy sensing that this truly wasn't the same snivelling, cowardly boy he'd known at school or during the height of the war.

"I can't allow you to kill him, Malfoy," Harry said.

"I won't have to kill him, I hope," Malfoy replied. "The Unbreakable Vow my Father made with him about not laying and hand or wand on anyone of the Malfoy bloodline should kick in and strike him dead when he's forced to duel me. But, just in case it fails, I need you to remain out here."

"Why?" Harry frowned. "If it fails, he could kill you, Draco."

Malfoy nodded slowly.

"Even if it doesn't fail, he might get off a Killing Curse as the spell that breaks his Vow, Potter," Malfoy said in a quiet voice. "He'll die today, I know it."

"Then why do I need to stay outside?" Harry frowned. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because if I die, or if I'm incapacitated, I need you to get me and Tori home, Potter," he said seriously, and a chill ran down Harry's spine at the flat way he said so, as though he'd been preparing for his death for a while.

"Why didn't you think of that before you went after Dolohov at the property in Kent?" Harry wanted to know, frowning all the more.

"Because I got cocky and forgot how bloody thorough and evil this bastard is," Malfoy confessed. "Just wait out here until you hear me shout, or until more than an hour has passed and you've seen no signs of life."

"If I wait that long you might not survive even if you're hit with something non-fatal, you moron. If the Vow is the thing that kills him, you're better off with me at you're back than waiting out here like some limp noodle," Harry argued.

Malfoy's mouth pulled into something of a cruel grimace and he raised his eyebrows slowly at Harry.

"You misunderstand, Potter," Draco said quietly. "If that bastard has laid so much as a hand on Tori, I mean to kill him. The Vow will protect me if he fights back, but I mean to make sure he suffers as she has suffered."

Harry frowned at him.

"You know I can't let you do that," Harry said seriously. "I can't allow you to torture him, Malfoy."

"That's why you're waiting out here," Malfoy said. "Now hush up so I can concentrate of dismantling these wards."

He turned away from Harry before he could say anything else and all Harry could think to do was wait for him to dismantle the wards, Stun him from behind, and go in there to rescue Astoria, himself. Of course, given that he couldn't see the building where Draco thought she was being held, that might prove difficult, but maybe it was like the Kent property, invisible to him until the wards were down.

"How can you see where he's keeping her?" Harry wanted to know after several minutes of listening to the blond wizard mutter and curse to himself, watching the skill with which he peeled back layers of defensive warding like leaves of parchment to be crumpled and cast aside.

"I've been here before," Malfoy muttered.

"You'd been to the other property, too," Harry said. "What makes you think he'll be here, rather than there?"

"This is his home," Draco spoke softly as he peeled away another layer of warding, causing the misting spell he'd been maintaining over the protective perimeter to finally disperse over the grass that led to a small cabin tucked into the base of one of the huge old oak trees.

"His home?" Harry frowned. "What's he doing living somewhere like here?"

He heard Malfoy huff at him as though he were thick, and Harry resolved to ask the rest of his questions later when he noticed that there was smoke billowing from the chimney of the tiny cabin. Harry was rather unnerved to note that the house looked like every witch's hovel he recalled from the horrid muggle tales Aunt Petunia used to read to Dudley about witches who ate little boys that wandered off and got lost in the woods.

"Wait here, Potter," Draco said. "Or cast Weightlessness Charms and Silencing charms on yourself to keep from alerting him to our intrusion. He'll kill Tori for spite when he hears us coming, if she's not already dead."

He didn't say anything else before he strode toward the cabin, casting the charms over himself as he went. Harry knew that if he wanted to keep his badge and his position as Head Auror of the MLE, he had no choice but to follow him.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Draco crept as quietly as he knew how from the many Hunts he'd taken during his life, crossing the threshold of the property and being careful to avoid the trick-board on the small front porch, indicating to it when he realised Potter was ignoring his request to remain outside. Having just been about to put his foot down right there, Potter froze, frowning at him. Draco rolled his eyes, thinking it might've been wiser to come alone, after all.

Bringing Potter had been a snap decision when he'd realised that he wasn't as skilled at tracking the likes of Dolohov as he would like to be after going to the wrong hut. It had occurred to him when he'd seen that decomposing body on the table in that house of torture that he didn't want his body to end up that way. If he failed to kill Dolohov today, he wanted to be buried on the grounds of the Manor, in the family plot alongside his ancestors. He wanted his mother to know what had become of him, and to be able to properly mourn him, rather than always wondering at his fate. And he couldn't do that if no one knew where he was. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for whatever he might find inside, Draco carefully charmed the doorknob and its hinges to keep them from squeaking as he slowly pushed it open. Potter cast a protective charm over the pair of them as they entered the house, expecting to find Dolohov in the single roomed hut, and he frowned at Draco questioningly when there was no sign of Astoria or of Dolohov even though the fireplace was burning away merrily.

The entire layout of the little cabin was actually rather appealing, and Draco remembered thinking the last time he'd been brought here that it seemed strange that so horrid a wizard would own such a homely little place of peace and comfort. Unlike the Kent property, this didn't look like a house of torture. There were no instruments of anguish on display and the most dangerous looking thing in the hut appeared to be the butcher's knives by the cutting board for preparing meals.

"There's no one here," Potter said when he cast a  _Homenum Revelio_ charm and it revealed nothing aside from the two of them.

"That's just what he wants you to think," Draco told him in a whisper before pressing his finger to his lips, insisting on quiet as he led Potter toward the little-known trap-door on the far side of the bed. If you didn't know it was there, you'd never find it. But Draco knew. He also knew what laid beneath the peaceful hut and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew just what he was going to find down there. Using more Silencing charms to keep the hinges on the trapdoor from squeaking, and casting a charm to maintain the light level in the dungeon under the cabin in preparation for descending into whatever hell he might encounter below, Draco took a deep breath to calm his nerves before slowly opening the hatch.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass lay bleeding on the soft bed in the dingy basement prison, tracking the movements of her captor through one swollen eye. He was agitated today, moving about the cabin restlessly, and cursing in his mother tongue often. She didn't know what had gotten his wand into such a knot. She hadn't moved a muscle in hours despite the tears that continued to trickle from the corners of her eyes. She was weak now. The effects of whatever horrible virus or curse she had encountered to threaten her life and that of her unborn baby was almost complete. She knew she didn't have long now.

Maybe that's why Dolohov was agitated. Maybe he didn't want her to die and didn't know how to prevent her from doing so. He'd given her something last night when she'd screamed herself hoarse with the agony permeating her body, radiating outward from her womb in wretched waves more torturous in their intensity than any Cruciatus curse she had ever endured. She didn't know what had been in the potion. She hadn't the coherence at the time to do more than scream, and she hadn't the fortitude to ask him today. She suspected he'd given her something to terminate the pregnancy he'd been attempting to beat out of her.

Thus far, he hadn't succeeded, she thought. She was far enough along that she was certain she would know if she'd miscarried. There would be more than the blood coating her thighs and staining her soiled hospital gown, by now. Whatever he'd given her had ceased the pain, she supposed. She couldn't be sure. She didn't think she could tell the difference between pain and pleasure, anymore. She couldn't recall the feel of sunlight on her skin, though she knew that as early as that morning, Dolohov had scooped her into his arms and carried her up out of her terrible, stinking prison. He'd laid her in a puddle of sunlight in the middle of a forest that had seemed so beautiful to her one working eye that she couldn't be sure if she cried with pain, relief, or awe. Only that had allowed her to gauge the passing of day time and night time. She didn't know what day it was, or how long she'd been missing. She didn't know how long she'd slept after that potion he'd given her had kicked in, and she doubted her body clock was synced with the passing of the sun and the moon across the sky as the planet continued to turn, heedless of her suffering.

She knew no one was coming. They hadn't, in any case, though she supposed it was possible someone might've and Dolohov had killed them. But Astoria doubted it.

After all, who was there in her life that would truly come after her?

Not her husband, though he'd the skills and the ruthlessness to track down Dolohov and make him pay. No, Draco would not come because she'd been unfaithful to their marriage, and she'd signed the divorce papers granting him majority custody of their son. She'd done as Narcissa had said, despite the bitter pill of blackmail forcing her hand, and she'd signed that divorce contract believing she might escape this very fate.

Who else did she really have in her life? Her son was much too young to even notice she was gone, she imagined, and her sisters and her parents wouldn't have the skills, even if they did have the money to pay someone to hunt for her. The Aurors would've been alerted by now, she supposed, but she'd never put much faith in the ability of the Ministry to come to anyone's rescue. Their failures during the war had taught her better than to rely on them to help her.

Adrian might be beside himself with worry, but even when she'd written to him and begged him to come to her bedside while she'd been in the hospital, he hadn't heeded her, too afraid of being caught. Too afraid that his vapid bitch of a wife might catch onto the fact that he loved Astoria more than he'd ever loved that barren, vile harpy. He wouldn't do something so valiant and brave as to hunt her down. Merlin, they might not even realise she'd been kidnapped. For Dolohov to have appeared in the crowded wards of St Mungo's and snatch her away without repercussion suggested that it was entirely too easy to hoodwink the system.

She hadn't even known he was alive, Astoria thought bitterly, and she had avidly followed the hunt and trials of the other Death Eaters who had so terrified her during the war. More than anyone, she'd wanted to see Dolohov caught. She wanted to watch the Dementors administer their Kiss and suck out his soul. She wanted to watch the light leave his wickedly intelligent dark eyes and she wanted to piss on his grave. The things he had done to her and her family during the war had left a bitter taste in her mouth and a hatred in her heart that she couldn't control. She'd followed every story, hoping there might be some sign of the wretch; hoping there might come a day that she would get her wish; that she would laugh while she watched the bastard die.

And now here she laid, at his mercy, aching, alone, and hopeless.

He paced across the room again, muttering something in Russian and tracing his eyes over her on every pass. She wondered idly if he was casting some kind of spell, trying to keep her alive. She knew he didn't want her to die. He wasn't done tormenting her, yet. He wanted to torture her into madness until all that she had left was rage. He wanted her to fight. She knew that. She knew he got off on watching the fury spark in her eyes and watching the fight rally itself inside her soul. He lived to have others pitting their will against his own. He'd told her that overpowering them, outwitting them, and outdoing them was that much more satisfying when his victims fought back with every ounce of rage in their hearts.

Twisting her head a little, hoping there might be something else to look at other than this man who she hated more than anything on the planet; who she feared she might be beginning to see in another, less sane light; Astoria's breath caught when she spotted a hint of movement in the shadows. A flash of blond hair caught her eye and Astoria knew she'd have gasped out loud if she'd had the strength.

Draco had come for her!

More tears overflowed her eyes, and in that moment, as she met his gaze and saw him lift his finger to his lips to indicate that she shouldn't make a sound to give him away, Astoria wanted to take everything back. The affair; signing the divorce papers; the fights; the bad feelings; the terrible things she'd said and the things that she'd done to torment him; the interview with Skeeter; all of it. He had come for her despite it all and the love she'd convinced herself she had for him in their early days of marriage blossomed within her, once more. It filled her up, her mind swimming with delirium and hope that she might actually live through this.

" _Crucio_!" Draco hissed just as Dolohov turned in his direction, having followed the tilt of her head and the widening of her smile to her rescuer.

The scream that tore from Dolohov's lips would never be enough to satisfy the monster he'd awoken inside of her soul, but the sound of it gave her strength. Stepping around Draco without a word about his use of an Unforgiveable curse, Harry Potter swam into Astoria's line of vision and she wondered if perhaps this was a dream. In what world would Harry Potter be coming to her rescue alongside his childhood nemesis?

"Astoria, are you alright?" Potter asked worriedly. "Bloody hell, that's a lot of blood. Gods, please be alive. Please?"

Astoria lifted her hand weakly when he reached her, and she cried harder when she realised that he was really real, her fingers trailing over his cheek. She blinked when she noticed she left a line of blood across his face as she touched him, and it occurred to her after a moment's pondering that she'd been trying to stem the flow of blood from her womb.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Potter muttered. "Malfoy she's alive, but we've got to get her out of here. She's fading fast. I think she's miscarrying."

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" Draco was snarling at her captor and Astoria's heart sang at the ragged screams of agony that tore from Antonin Dolohov's chest as Draco unleashed the full force of his power and his fury. Centuries of uninterrupted magical bloodlines converged within him and he unleashed its full force on the man who'd dared to steal her away from him.

Every scream Dolohov emitted filled her with more strength and with Potter's help, Astoria managed to haul herself to her feet.

"Stay still, Tori!" Draco shouted when he saw the way she stumbled and fell into Potter's arms.

Astoria felt the gush of blood and tissue between her legs, felt the way it caked her thighs and splattered her feet as it hit the ground.

"Fuck!" Potter cursed, his hands full of her as he tried to support her weight when her legs gave out.

She knew she ought not to stand but she had to. She wanted to be on her feet and glaring down her nose at Dolohov when he died. Struggling in Potter's hold, she watched the way, in his distraction, Draco's spell lifted.

"Blast it all, Astoria! Stop being so bloody stubborn for once in your life and lie back down before you get yourself killed," Draco scolded her.

Astoria hissed, lifting her arm and trying to point toward Dolohov, who, while Draco was distracted, was rolling to his back and pulling out his wand.

"Watch out!" she cried, pointing at the man who'd been tormenting and abusing her for what felt like months on end.

She almost fell to the floor when Potter released his hold on her and fired a spell of his own at Dolohov.

" _Stupefy!"_  Potter cried, and Dolohov went flying across the small space to slam into the wall, sliding down it roughly.

He bared his teeth, his eyes narrowed hatefully, and Astoria wished with all her might that she had her wand on her so she could make him writhe.

"Tori, love, you've got to sit down," Draco was saying, crossing the short distance between them while Potter flung another curse at Dolohov, trying to disarm him.

"You came," Astoria breathed when Draco reached her, her bloodied hands clutching at his forearms for balance. She swayed where she stood, and she looked up into his face with wonder.

Draco frowned at her.

"You're delirious," he said, shaking his head. "Lie down, Tori, you need to lie down while I make this bastard pay."

He guided her to the bed she'd struggled out of and Astoria  _almost_  fought him on it out of pure instinct.

"Malfoy, watch out!" Potter shouted, and Draco spun, shield up just in time to block the bright purple curse Dolohov had fired in their direction. It bounced off and hit the wall, as Astoria fell heavily on the bed. " _Expelliarmus!"_

"Well, well, well, if ickle Draco hasn't grown up and learned to duel," Dolohov sneered when his wand sailed out of his hand to be deftly caught by Potter. Astoria cringed, recognising the tactic of him trying to draw his target into chatter and distraction to better wound him with the element of surprise.

She'd bet good money that the wretch was planning to attack again, even without his wand.

Draco obviously recognised it too and as she blinked dazedly, Astoria wondered how bad things must've been for him when Dolohov had been training him in the Dark Arts during the height of the war. His scowl, when he levelled it at Dolohov, was so fierce that Astoria cringed back just a little in fear. He'd  _never_  looked at her like that. Not even when he'd found out she'd been cheating on him had he ever looked at her like that. He looked like he wanted to rip Dolohov's heart out and feed it to him. A bitter little part of her wondered if he'd ever looked at Granger like that.

"Antonin Dolohov, you're under arrest for a mass murder, suspicion of being a serial killer, torture, assault, abduction, evading arrest, escaping from prison, the use of Unforgiveable curses…." Astoria's mind swam as Potter continued listing the many crimes against Dolohov and she traced her eyes over her husband, frowning when he didn't look her way, even once.

" _Crucio!_ " Draco snarled before Potter could attempt to handcuff Dolohov.

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Potter snapped. "I let you get away with the first one because the bastard bloody well deserves it, but you can't keep torturing him when he's in MLE custody! He's unarmed, for Merlin's sake. You had your go at him, but I can't let you kill him, Malfoy.  _Expelliarmus!_ "

Astoria's eyes widened, and she watched in slow motion as Draco's wand spun out of his hand even as Dolohov twisted his wrist and flung his signature purple-fire curse wandlessly.

" _Szhigat',"_ Dolohov spat when.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" Draco snarled.

Purple light of Dolohov's spell sailed across the room and one single thought flashed through Astoria's mind even as green fury burst free of Draco's outflung hand.

_Scorpius will be orphaned!_

With the last of her strength, and a wretched lurch that dislodged something deep inside of her, Astoria flung herself at Draco. The spell slammed into her back and Astoria opened her mouth on a ragged scream as she fell into Draco's arms, fire lancing through her limbs, fizzing in every cell, making her burn like she'd never known.

"Tori!" Draco shouted, catching her on pure instinct when she slumped against his chest.

Dolohov dodged the spell Draco had flung at him, obviously having expected it, and in her agony, Astoria watched the wretch kick Potter's knees from under him before he lunged for his wand in Potter's grip. Snatching it away, Dolohov flung another curse, this one bright blue, and it struck Potter squarely in the chest, knocking the man flat to his back, his eyes glazed over and unseeing.

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," Draco spat, flinging his empty hand at Dolohov again and it was a testament to his hatred and his burning intent to murder the man when the spell erupted from within him even with his wife dying in his arms and without his wand.

The sound of a heavy male body hitting the floor filled her eyes and Astoria gasped in a ragged breath, clutching at Draco, desperately trying to draw his attention.

"D-Draco…." She wheezed, her breathing laboured, her body aching. "P-please take c-c-care of S-S-Scorpius. Please… P-promise me you'll l-love him as you n-never loved me?"

Draco face was full of anguish and he fell to the floor under her weight, the two of them becoming coated in the blood she was so rapidly losing. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, not sound coming out though his eyes were wide with terror and pain as she'd never seen them.

"P-promise you'll… t-t-try to make things w-work with G-Granger and her b-boy," Astoria breathed though a large part of her wanted to beg him never to take another woman after her.

"Astoria…" Draco said weakly, his arms supporting her as she drew another laboured breath.

"Scorpius," she breathed, tasting blood on her tongue and feeling the wet warmth of it overflow her lips to trickle across her chin. "Be g-good to Scorpius, Draco… I… I'm sorry f-for what I d-did…. I l-love you…"

The pain faded away as her eyes slipped closed and she exhaled a rattling breath into the up-rushing blackness.


	34. Chapter 33

"No…. no, no, no! Come on, Tori, don't you dare die on my now!" Draco growled at the woman in his arms when she went limp. "Potter! Fucking hell. POTTER!"

Draco jostled Astoria in his hold, his eyes darting between her sallow face and the prone form of the Auror he'd dragged along with him into this mess. Potter lay sprawled on the floor of the cabin, his eyes open, his fists clenched. Draco could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted with effort and he realised that for all that he was silent, it was only in an attempt to keep from screaming.

"FUCK!" Draco shouted in frustration. "Potter! Potter, get your sorry arse up off that ground and help me, you bastard!"

Potter's teeth were gritted tightly to hold back the scream induced by the spell designed to freeze his body from the inside out.

"Confound it all, Potter! Get up! If you don't keep moving and keep your body warm, you'll die on that fucking floor! Get up. Scream all you like, but get off your bloody arse before Astoria dies, you sorry excuse for an Auror. Get up before I kill you myself!"

Draco turned his attention back to the woman in his arms. She'd lost consciousness, he knew, and it was probably for the best because the agony suffusing her was only going to get worse the longer it took him to get her to a Healer. He knew the minute he picked her up and felt the gush of hot blood soaking the front of his robes that she was in very real danger of dying in that fucking hovel, and he wasn't having it. Cradling her in his arms, and cringing at the way her body hung limp, her head lolling, arms dangling, breath shallow, Draco clutched her to him as best he could. Righting her a little in his hold, he got his feet under him and stood, cringing at the blood that spilled on the floor and the death-rattle of her breath in her lungs.

He crossed the room quickly toward Potter, looking down at the Auror whose eyes fixed on him the minute he came into view.

"Scream, Potter," Draco said through gritted teeth. "I don't care if you have to scream yourself hoarse, you  _will_  get up off that floor and accompany me to the hospital. You  _will_  see your wife again and you  _will_  live to see the birth of your first child, you bastard. The Dark Lord couldn't fucking kill you with two blasted Killing Curses, and I'll be hanged if you're going to die from a little Blood-Freezing curse. Do you hear me? You open your mouth and scream if you have to, but you get off that goddamn floor this second or I'll leave you here."

Potter's eyes narrowed and he flailed, valiantly trying to rise to his feet.

"AARRRGGGGHHHH!" He screamed, and Draco didn't blame him.

He knew the wretchedness of that curse, but he knew that surrendering to the agony was a sure-fire way to die alone on a cold floor.

"Up!" Draco growled at the man when he flopped backward, clearly in more agony that he'd have been enduring the Cruciatus curse.

Dolohov, tricky fucker that he was, had found a way to combine the effects of a Freezing charm with the Cruciatus curse and Draco knew it was like having a trillion icy pins shoved through every cell, but if he didn't get Potter out of there, he knew he wouldn't make it back. He'd been lucky, protected by Astoria's foolish and brave self-sacrifice, and he wasn't injured himself, but Draco knew that the minute he returned with the tortured, raped, miscarrying and unconscious woman in his arms, he was going to be arrested. Without Potter, the crime would likely be pinned on him, and Draco wasn't having that.

"Get up, Potter," Draco bit out one more time, jostling Astoria's body in his arms a little and reaching down to seize Potter's hand when he reached upward, trying to pull himself to his feet.

"AARRRGGGHHHH!" Potter screamed at the agony of being pulled into a sitting position and then to his feet, but Draco gave him no mercy.

"Help me get Dolohov," Draco commanded of the Auror. "He's still alive, or the spells would've cancelled out with his death."

Potter nodded, gritting his teeth and trying to get his body back under his own control. He was failing spectacularly, but Draco helped him, slinging Potter's arm around his shoulders and taking most of the man's weight when Potter had trouble keeping his feet. Every step drew another hoarse shout of pain from Potter, but Draco was beyond the ability to slow down or take his time, no matter his relative sympathy for the pain Potter endured. He  _needed_ to get Astoria to the hospital before she could die on him. He refused to let his son – the son she'd breathed what she obviously meant to be her last breaths worrying for – grow up without his mother.

"Get him," Draco nodded, lowering Potter as best he could toward Dolohov's prone form where he laid, sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

Draco knew he wasn't dead because his spells were still in effect, and because he could see the shallow breaths the man drew. He wasn't dead, but he certainly wasn't healthy, either. The exhaustion he'd been pushing back for hours, and his lack of a wand when casting the Killing Curse had robbed him the power if took to actually kill someone with the Avada Kedavra curse. He hadn't managed to do more than shock the evil git into unconsciousness, much to his dismay. Draco loathed the fact that he needed to get Potter and Astoria to a Healer when all he wanted to do was finish what he'd started and torture Dolohov until he was completely out of his already demented mind. He would kill for the chance to watch this fucker writhe, but it would have to wait. Priorities, he thought bitterly as Potter screamed even as he stooped far enough to seize Dolohov's wrist in a bruising grip, were a real bitch like that.

As soon as he was sure Potter wasn't going to drop his hold of Dolohov – though he was by no means opposed to seeing the bastard splinched beyond recognition – Draco twisted sharply and Disapparated all four of them with a sharp crack.

Knowing he couldn't apparate directly to St Mungo's, and knowing that Dolohov needed to be apprehended, lest he escape custody again should he survive the curse, Draco transported them all to the next best thing. People screamed when Draco stumbled heavily, almost dropping Astoria as he landed heavily in the heart of the Ministry atrium. The shock of seeing their Head Auror in such a bad way brought the Aurors running from every direction, and they shoved aside citizen and common folk going about their day, intent on investigating and on arresting Draco, no doubt.

"Hospital!" Draco barked at all of them as the Auror's converged on him, their wands drawn. "They need a Healer! Now!"

He was lightheaded with the effort of apparating three uncooperative and extremely unwell wizards across the continent. The exhaustion almost brought him to his knees and Draco winced when he dropped his hold on Potter as he stumbled a second time, determined to keep his feet under him lest he drop Astoria.

"Healers!" he barked again, unsure from the sight of people swimming in and out of focus around him whether or not the Aurors were listening to him. "They need the Healers. Hurry!"

He growled when someone came forward and tried to take Astoria from his arms.

"Malfoy, let her go. She needs medical attention," someone said sharply, though he couldn't have made out their face had he wanted to. The exhaustion of so long spent de-warding and the effects of so many sleepless nights were converging within him thanks to the mammoth effort of such an apparation and he knew he was in danger of passing out, himself.

Rallying the last of his strength, Draco shook his head to clear it and he blinked into the face of the wizard trying to relieve him of his wife. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, himself, stood before Draco, patiently - if somewhat desperately - trying to pry the bloodied witch out of his arms.

"She's alive…" Draco managed. "Dolohov's… curse. The burning curse… the one he hit Granger with…"

Kingsley nodded sharply, turning to bark orders at people over his shoulder and it distantly crossed Draco's mind that the man really was adept at handling chaos. Maybe he would have to make sure that, come the next Minister's election, the Malfoy's made a hefty donation to Shacklebolt running for office, again.

"I'll take her," he managed when Kingsley tried to pry Astoria out of his arms again.

"You're dead on your feet, son," Kingsley said, his deep voice resonating through Draco's head.

"I'll take her," Draco insisted, and he walked forward a few steps, only vaguely aware of the flashing cameras snapping photos of him, bloodied and weary, his wife's body broken beyond repair in his arms.

Before he could attempt the Apparation on his own, Shacklebolt put a hand on his shoulder and Draco felt the uncomfortable squeeze of being apparated a second time rush through his overtaxed body. He couldn't maintain his balance on the landing, and it was lucky Shacklebolt was on his game, because Draco felt sure he'd have slumped down and landed on top of Astoria, likely killing her, had the wizard not deftly plucked his wife from his embrace and given him a nudge into the arms of waiting Healers. Draco blinked dazedly as he listened to the urging of Healers for him to walk; to talk; to follow their wand tip with his eyes; to tell them what had happened.

He couldn't.

He couldn't do any of it. Pushed to his limits and just a bit beyond, Draco's vision sparkled brilliantly before he lost consciousness, the worries plaguing him postponed as he succumbed to exhaustion.


	35. Chapter 34

"When I get my hands on Draco Malfoy, I'm going to wring his bloody neck!" Hermione Granger announced angrily even though she was alone. She'd stomped from one end of the wretched chateau to the other, attempting to Disapparate from every square foot and not a single thing had happened except that she had officially lost her temper.

Breathing hard, she shoved her rapidly frizzing curls out of her face one more time and took another step to the left, trying desperately to get out of the bloody house where he'd trapped her. She would kill him. The next time she saw him,  _if he ever bloody came back_ , Hermione was going to beat him senseless with the nearest heavy object she could lay her hands on, and then she was going to hex him until he couldn't see straight, and  _then_  she was going to strangle him like the no good, wretched bloody bastard he happened to be.

She'd never been so angry in all her life. Not once. She  _loathed_  being trapped and she couldn't believe he had dared to bring her to a place where she literally couldn't get out. As though she was some filthy criminal, Hermione was trapped inside the chateau somewhere in the French countryside and she couldn't leave. She wanted out. She wanted out so badly she'd screamed herself hoarse and terrified the children. Her mother had tried to stop her from losing her cool, but despite the massive size of the house and the open, airy rooms that overlooked an extensive – if creature riddled – garden, claustrophobia pressed against her psyche and Hermione  _needed_ to get out.

If she didn't get out, she was sure she might go mad.

She couldn't even recall  _why_  she'd wanted to get out so very badly in the beginning, she was so stressed and so angry with Draco for abandoning her in this prison. How dare he? Just who did he think he was, forcing her into this ridiculous house and leaving her with no way to get out?

Merlin, what if something happened to one of the boys and they needed to be rushed to the hospital? They would surely die, because there was no way out. Hermione wondered, as her attempt at apparating failed once again, if Malfoy had had the good sense to tell  _someone_  where he'd left her and the boys. She didn't imagine she'd be in a very good state of mind if she was cooped up in this wretched place for the rest of her natural life if he went and got himself killed in his pursuit of Dolohov.

She hissed in annoyance when she realised that continuing to try and escape was useless, and she wondered if there was any wine in the house, or maybe something stronger to calm her nerves. Her mother was watching the boys – hopefully soothing them after she'd lost her cool, entirely, and terrified the poor children half to death with her hysterics – and Hermione didn't think she could face any of them so soon. She needed a good, stiff drink, and then she needed to figure out a way around this ridiculous anti-apparation charm so that she and the boys could get home. Threat of Dolohov be damned, she and her mother needed to get back to their lives, and Aurelian and Scorpius needed to get back to some sort of proper routine suitable for small boys.

Stomping away through the house, her wand tucked into the waistband of her jeans, Hermione ran a hand through her hair and counted to one hundred as she moved. She needed to keep counting or she was going to remember she was trapped, and it was going to get to her all over again. She didn't think it would be wise to go testing the wards on the property again by trying to throw another chair through one of the windows. She'd hurt herself when the last one she'd thrown had rebounded and smacked into her.

She was certain that blasted house elf had been amused when she discovered that while Hermione had done herself some considerable damage in the form of scrapes and bruises, the antique chair had been just fine. She wondered what kind of people the Malfoy's really were that they thought to cast protective charms over the furniture on the off chance that someone might attempt to pitch it through the window, and resolved to ask Narcissa Malfoy a good many questions the very next time she saw her.

_If_  she ever saw her again, Hermione though bitterly before pushing away thoughts of cages and prisons. She couldn't dwell on all of that or she'd lose her mind. Huffing, Hermione stomped through the house and all the way down to the kitchen where she startled several of the elves as she stormed into the cellar-style kitchen and snatched a bottle of wine from the rack of those wines she suspected they usually used in cooking. Uncorking it furiously, Hermione lifted the bottle to her lips without bothering with a glass or a goblet, though many of the elves rushed over offering to pour her one.

She chugged down half of the bitter wine before pulling the bottle from her lips and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She knew that she was being irrational, and she knew she was probably making a terrible impression upon the elves that they might report back to the Malfoys, but Hermione was too worked up to care. She had no idea where Draco was, she had no clue when or even if he might ever return, and what was worse, she had no way of knowing if anyone else knew her location. She didn't imagine the Malfoys were overly fond of having their secret hideaway known about, so she doubted he'd have gone blabbing to Harry or anyone else just where she happened to be holed up beyond Dolohov's reach.

Sighing as she panted following the marathon of gulping down such a nasty flavoured wine - really, what the elves must use it for, Hermione wasn't even sure she wanted to know, because it certainly wouldn't have been being served to the Malfoys or any other guests they might bring here. Complete swill, if she was being honest. Scowling and running her hand through her messy curls all over again, Hermione paced the kitchen in frustration, upsetting the elves immensely as she did so, but too annoyed to care.

"Now, really, darling, this has gone on quite long enough," her mother's voice cut across the soft mutterings of the elves.

Hermione turned her head in her mother's direction, scowling.

"Really, love, I'll admit it wasn't the nicest thing to have had written about you, and I'm certain you'll have a very nice time putting that wretched reporter in her place for her daring, but don't you think you're being just a little bit unreasonable. I'm sure that Draco brought us all here for our own good, and if that murderer really is still on the loose, then we don't want to be within his reach, do we? Not when he might hurt the boys, or you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the reminder of Skeeter's article - the reason she'd wanted to leave so badly in the first place. She'd almost forgotten amid her fury over being trapped.

"We can't get out, Mum," Hermione told the elder woman quietly, lifting the bottle of wine to her lips once more before catching a whiff of its bitter stench and thinking better of the action. "The entire property is warded against apparating. The only way out will be if Malfoy returns to collect us."

"Well, I'm sure there's a very good reason for that, darling," her mother offered. "Why don't we have a nice pot of tea and you can tell me all about everything that's been going on with you and Draco, and everything about this ex-wife of his?"

"I need to get out, Mum," Hermione argued.

"Nonsense, love," her mother said, patting her cheek affectionately and taking away the bottle of wine before accepting the tea tray the elves pushed upon her. "You need a cuppa, and a good long chat with your mother. I managed to get both of the boys down for a nice long nap, and one of the lovely elves is going to keep an eye on them for us, so you and I are going to go on into that lovely sun room out by the patio and we're going to drink tea until you feel better."

Reluctantly, Hermione let her mother nudge her out of the room, continuing her counting exercises and controlling her breathing to keep from screaming.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Narcissa Malfoy stalked into the spell damage ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies with all the grandeur of an avenging angel. Reporters - the absolute vermin creatures that they were - swarmed the halls, desperately trying to be the ones to get the snapshot that might be splashed across tomorrow's issue of  _The Daily Prophet_. Somewhere on this horrid ward, her son was lying in Merlin only knew what state, and Auror presence or not, she was going to get to the bottom of it! She passed the distressed and concerned Weasley clan where they loitered outside what must surely be their son in law's suite, and she passed another ward that was so heavily guarded, she couldn't even see the door to that particular suite thanks to the heavy Auror presence and the swarm of reporters all trying to get a shot of whomever was inside.

Despite her fears for her son, she breathed a sigh of relief to know that if the room was that heavily guarded, they'd likely captured Dolohov, after all, which suggested that Draco hadn't managed to murder the wretch, despite his best efforts.

_Thank Merlin_ , Narcissa thought tiredly as she continued down the hall to a room where two Aurors were stationed outside. Their presence didn't bode well, but they didn't stop her from attempting to enter the room when spied Draco's name on the door, so Narcissa hoped they were there to protect her son, rather than to detain him. She didn't think she could take the stress of a trial were Draco faced with being shipped off to prison. Not again. Not now. Not when things were already such a mess.

Letting herself into the room, Narcissa's heart constricted at the sight of her son, pale and unconscious where he was laid out on the dingy hospital bed. He was ashen, and dark circles born of exhaustion bruised the soft skin under his eyes. He looked like he'd been through hell and back again, his strong body weakened to a state of utter depletion.

Narcissa could only begin to imagine what he'd endured during his hunt for the man who'd kidnapped his ex-wife. It occurred to her idly as she approached the bed that she ought to investigate the state her daughter in law was in, too, even if only for the sake of appearances. Scowling, Narcissa lowered herself to sit on the edge of Draco's bed, wondering just what this entire ordeal was going to cost them. She supposed the fate of them all hinged on whether Astoria still lived and on how lucidly Dolohov was about to present his confession. Having spotted no evidence of Astoria presence inside the hospital, Narcissa supposed it didn't bode well for her son, but then, the photos already splashed across the papers had suggested that before being brought to the hospital, Draco had been carrying the blood-stained little witch into the heart of the Auror Department within the Ministry of Magic.

"My darling boy," Narcissa sighed, carding her fingers through Draco's soft hair and noting that it was sticky with blood and in need of a good wash. The ordinarily white blond strands were stained an ashen sort of grey colour where the blood hadn't seeped into it, rather like his cheeks, and he looked like he might not make it through the night.

Her heart was in her throat as she listened to him breathe, noting that he at least didn't seem to be struggling to draw breath. Perhaps he was just exhausted. Narcissa sighed heavily again, exhausted herself after having been detained by the Aurors for so long before pacing most of the night in her worry. She traced her wand over the young man, casting diagnostic charms and trying to determine just what he'd put himself through for this mess. Other than exhaustion and a few minor scrapes and bruises, he seemed fine, and she breathed a little easier with the knowledge. Of course, if he was only exhausted, it suggested that he got the better of Dolohov, which might bode ill for him, after all and Narcissa began mentally preparing her arguments and the things she would need to get in order to ensure that he would survive the intensity of a trial, unscathed and without going to prison, no matter what he had done to Antonin Dolohov.

Narcissa frowned a little more when it occurred to her that the only way Draco might avoid prison would be if someone else went in his place. After all, Dolohov had only been doing as he'd been asked for the sake of being released. Lucius, the fool, had kept the wretch prisoner inside their home for years and years, locked away in a dank and fathomless dungeon far beneath the Manor with only the rats and the elves for company. He could argue duress, insanity, and any other number of things to get out of going to prison for his crimes, depending on the exact wording of the Unbreakable Vow Lucius had forced on him and Narcissa wasn't having it. Her husband, for all that she loved him, had made a terrible decision and no matter her own efforts to save the girl, his actions were what had doomed her. They could've simply sent Astoria on her way with a nice payout and divorce settlement, allowing her to raise the sprog she'd conceived with her lover beyond the prying eyes of the public and everything would've been fine. She'd signed the papers and she'd agreed to being on her way without a fuss.

And then Lucius's deal had gone and cocked it all up and now her beloved son might very well face jail time. She needed to get to the bottom of this. She needed to find out what had become of Astoria, and she needed to find out what was wrong with Potter and with Dolohov and when all of that was finished, she needed to find Lucius and wring his fool neck for stirring up all this horrid drama that he'd been so desperate to avoid in the first place. And all because he was worried someone might discover the off-shore accounts if they dug too hard into their affairs when trying to quantify just how much money Astoria would be entitled to in a divorce settlement. Narcissa huffed furiously, reminded of Macbeth and his own actions that had doomed him to the fate the witches had proclaimed. Why was it, so often, that one's own doom must first be sparked by one's own actions to prevent that very fate?

Well, she wasn't having it. No matter that she adored her husband and would do anything in the world to protect him and to keep him in her life, she would not allow his actions to doom their son. Not again. She'd learned that lesson last time when she'd almost lost Draco to the Dark Lord's evil and when she'd watched her cocky, bright, brilliant boy waste away to a shadow of himself with the guilt that eaten at him during the war. Doomed by Lucius's alliances. Narcissa had vowed when they'd survived the war and when they'd gotten off without being sent to prison that she would never again allow her husband's foolishness to doom their son. She would see the man rot in prison, himself, before she would allow Draco to suffer like that again.

"Mother?" Draco croaked quietly as she stroked his hand, lost in thoughts and her schemes to ensure he wouldn't suffer any more than he already had.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked, her head lifting. "Oh, thank Merlin, darling. How are you feeling? Don't try to talk too much. You're very weak."

Draco winced as he tried to sit up and Narcissa shook her head, trying to prevent him from doing any further damage.

"Is... Astoria...?" he croaked out, slumping back against the pillows when sitting up proved too much for his weakened body.

"I don't know, darling. I've only just arrived. You need to rest. I'm sure that if there were complications, someone would've told me on the way in," Narcissa said, not at all sure that was the case, but willing to lie if it would prevent him from worrying himself.

"P-Potter?" Draco asked next, wincing as though even talking was proving too much for him.

"His family is with him. They looked distressed outside the door when I was on my way in," Narcissa explained.

Draco shook his head. "Dol-Dolohov's ice curse," he managed to choke out. "He got hit with the... ice curse."

Narcissa's blood ran cold.

"And Astoria?" she asked. "You, darling?"

"I'm fine," Draco shook his head. "Tori... the burning curse. Mum... she took it for me..."

Narcissa knew in an instant that the anguish and guilt he was feeling were eating him alive when he called her 'Mum' rather than 'Mother'.

"I'll see to them, darling," Narcissa promised. "Lie still, now."

"Granger..." Draco choked out, and Narcissa frowned. "You have to... get her..."

"She's fine, darling. She's not here."

"She's in France," Draco shook his head again, frowning and looking at her imploringly. "Bring her home."

Narcissa's paled at the idea of the young woman and the children cooped up in that house. It wasn't a bad place to be, except that the only way in or out was via portkey, which she very much doubted Draco would've given to Hermione. He'd hardly have trusted her to remain put without skipping back on home when she grew tired of waiting for him to return, potentially putting herself in danger. It had to be said that for all that the young woman was brilliant, she was hardly the most patient of people and she had never been one for inactivity or for putting her own well-being over that of others.

Draco fought to keep his eyes open, awaiting her agreement to collect them now that Dolohov had been apprehended, clearly knowing Hermione wouldn't be doing well with being locked up inside that lavish prison. She would have to go there to collect them all, and Narcissa frowned at the thought of the long portkey travel too their safehouse. She didn't entirely know what to make of the notion that Draco had taken Hermione there, no matter her scheming to set the two of them up just as soon as Astoria was out of the way. It was one thing to plan to bring Hermione into the fold as her new daughter in law. It was another to think of her already enjoying some of the privileges of that association without having actually married Draco, yet. Then again, she was already the mother of Narcissa's firstborn grandson, so she supposed there was nothing wrong with it.

"I'll collect her and the boys, love," Narcissa promised her son and he nodded slowly before sighing out a heavy breath and surrendering to unconsciousness, once more.

Getting to her feet and determined to ensure that the Healers knew that Astoria and Potter would need specifics kinds of healing for Dolohov's signature spells, she let herself out of the room and hurried down the corridor in search of the best person to inform of those facts. Just as soon as she had done so – much to the mutual horror of the collection of Healers who'd been working over Potter, and who had to pass the message on about Astoria – Narcissa pinched her lips together, fished a long goblin-made silver chain from the front of her blouse, and activated the portkey pendant, spinning dizzyingly toward France.


	36. Chapter 35

Lucius Malfoy paced back and forth across his office relentlessly, his mind churning as he tried to figure out just what had gone so wrong with his plan. He had  _warned_  Narcissa to attend something public and to stay away from the hospital. He'd as good as told her the time and date that the little wretch would be spirited away by Dolohov. And instead of listening to him, she'd done the exact opposite. She'd gone to the hospital, where she'd been one of the last people to see the girl alive!

Worse, Draco had gotten involved. His son – usually so willing to look the other way and to avoid involving himself in Lucius's affairs – had thrown himself right into the thick of things, as well. And all for a cheating little trollop who'd gone and gotten herself knocked up by some twat who was neither as handsome nor as rich as Draco! What was the world coming to that his wife and his son had stopped relying on him to handle things his way? When had they wrestled control from his vice-grip and begun asserting their own plots without bothering to consult him and with an utter disregard for his own schemes?

This was unacceptable!

What was worse, Narcissa had  _known_  about the Granger bitch and her spawn for years!  _Years!_  And she'd never told him! Not once throughout that time, even when they'd feared that Draco and Astoria might not be compatible for the sake of reproduction, she'd never uttered a single peep about the grandson they already had.

What the devil was that all about? This was beyond reconciliation! The spawn of a mudblood, supposedly rife with Malfoy genetics – the purest of blood running through his impure veins, polluted by the wretchedness of muggle affliction. It was an outrage! A scandal! Draco, he could entirely be surprised about. No matter Lucius's lesson on the matter, the boy had always had a soft spot for that wretched mudblood bitch. Always. No amount of discouragement of disdain had dissuaded his interested, though Lucius had laboured under the delusion that while he might not have prevented the boy's attraction to the witch, at least he needn't fear such disgrace as having Draco bed the bitch.

Clearly, he hadn't enforced his stance on the matter strongly enough, and now his wife and his son and the entire bloody wizarding world were claiming that the bitch had birthed a little beast of Draco's seed.

Well, he was no grandson of Lucius's! No half-blood with a mudblood mother was ever going to set foot in Malfoy Manor claiming to be the heir to their fortune. No, sir! No, Lucius's plans for handling Astoria and her sprog might've been skittled thanks to the meddling of his wife and his son, but that was because he'd foolishly put his faith in a useless twat like Dolohov to handle the matter swiftly and without incident.

Poor planning, really. That's what it came down to. He ought to have known better than to send a lunatic to do a professional's job.

No, if he wanted to handle this new threat to his family's pristine bloodline, he would just have to ensure that he entrusted it to no one who could go cocking it up. Which meant only one thing.

He was going to have to do it himself.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Narcissa Malfoy would confess that she had expected a lot of things when she landed in the entrance hall of their French hideaway, but it hadn't been to be greeted by a muggle.

Merlin, even knowing just who that muggle was and knowing they shared a grandson, for a long moment after she'd landed, Narcissa's lip had curled back from her perfectly straight and bright white teeth as her oldest and most ingrained prejudices reared their heads.

"Oh, thank goodness you've come," Wendy Granger blurted out by way of greeting, hurrying toward Narcissa, heedless of the danger of surprising a witch trained in the art of duelling by masters of the craft.

Without thinking, Narcissa drew her wand on pure instinct, narrowing her eyes when the muggle woman immediately came to a halt across the room and eyed her warily

"Narcissa?" Wendy asked uncertainly, and it became clear to Narcissa in a heartbeat that Hermione had obviously taught her about such magics as Polyjuice Potion.

Distrust shone in her eyes and she took a hesitant step backward, apparently thinking to run should Narcissa prove to be anyone but herself.

"Wendy," Narcissa nodded in greeting, lowering her wand and straightening her robes. "Apologies. I wasn't expecting you."

Wendy nodded, still looking uncertain and more than a little rattled. Her hair was all in a mess as though she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly and she had care lines etched into the crinkles around her eyes and chiselled into the frown line on her forehead.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the woman offered by way of apology, looking rather like she wished the need for niceties was beyond them and a bit like she needed help, if Narcissa was being completely honest. "I was just a bit too excited to have someone come who can get us out of here."

"Is everything alright?" Narcissa asked, frowning. "Are the children well?"

"They're fine. They're upstairs, asleep," Wendy sighed, waving a dismissive hand as though the fate of Narcissa's two grandsons was of little consequence. "It's Hermione that I'm worried about."

"What's the matter with her?" Narcissa wanted to know, striding forward and intent on getting to the bottom of this immediately now that she'd recovered from the shock of a muggle standing into a Malfoy dwelling. Lucius would have a whole herd of hippogriffs if he could see them now, she was sure of it and as she moved, she noted the wild gesticulating portraits of Malfoy ancestors lining the walls, all silenced, by the looks of things.

"Well, she read the paper this morning… I don't know if you saw the article Skeeter wrote? Outing her secret about Aurelian and insinuating such things! She wanted rather desperately to get out – likely to do the wretched bitch some well-deserved harm – but I assume the entire property is heavily warded because she stomped over every inch she could access, screeching in fury when apparating kept failing."

"She's claustrophobic, isn't she?" Narcissa asked, recalling that small fact about her grandson's mother. "But then… this is hardly a  _small_  space."

She waved her hand toward the grandeur of the estate indicatively, doubting that anyone could ever feel like it wasn't big enough.

"Claustrophobia presents most often as simply a fear of being trapped, and currently, we are trapped," Wendy explained quietly.

"I take it that she's not handling the situation very well?" Narcissa asked seriously, eyeing the other woman sternly and not about to suffer any more hysterics from anyone.

She was a sensible woman and had never been prone to hysteria or theatrics like her sisters. She preferred to be cool, calm and collected at all times.  _Poised_ , her mother had called it. Narcissa had dedicated her life to remaining as poised as possible at all times, no matter the situation. It was a skill she'd relied on when a red-eyed demon had invaded her home during the height of the war, and it was a skill she would carry with her to her death bed, she was sure.

"She's taken over the potions lab and won't come out," Wendy confessed, wringing her hands together. "Even the children can't lure her out."

"What's she doing in there?" Narcissa frowned, wondering if the girl had gone mad.

Given the things she'd endured during the war and the PTSD that Narcissa knew she secretly suffered from, she wouldn't be surprised if the pressure of not being able to escape – failing at something so simple as freeing herself from a building – could certainly have caused a few cracks in the young witch's unruffled façade.

"Working, or so she claims," Wendy sighed, leading the way down the hall in the direction of the potions lab as though Narcissa were a guest in the house, rather than the owner. "Whenever I manage to peek inside, the benches are a mess. She hasn't showered since Draco left, I'm sure, and she's been in there working and muttering to herself about fairies and a virus and Dolohov and, and I'm quoting here "that fucking beetle I should've crushed when I had the chance". Narcissa, my daughter's always been something of a mutterer, but I confess, I'm concerned."

"I'll see to her," Narcissa assured her.

"Oh, but listen to me, fretting myself and upsetting you when you've already had such a rough go of things, dear. I saw the article. Arrested! The nerve of that Harry Potter! You wait until I see him again, I'll twist his ear for even thinking such a respectable and upstanding woman could be involved in a kidnapping."

Narcissa smiled tightly.

"Yes, well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that he was wrong in assuming I had information that could help him, given that my idiot husband was the one who let Dolohov loose and had him kidnap Astoria in the first place," Narcissa admitted quietly. "In any case, I'm sure Potter rather regrets his meddling, given that he's lying unconscious in a hospital bed, half dead from a curse known to freeze its victim's hearts."

Wendy gasped dramatically and Narcissa might've thought the woman would've clutched her pearls, were she wearing any.

"And Draco?" Wendy asked in a tight voice. "Astoria?"

Narcissa turned to look at the other woman seriously. They shared a grandson and an urge to get their children romantically involved. Muggle or not, Narcissa supposed they could be cordial.

"Draco is exhausted. The magic he performed to rescue my ex-daughter-in-law from the clutches of that psychopath depleted his energy reserves. He is recuperating in the hospital, though he woke long enough to tell me what curses Potter and Astoria had endured, and to insist that I bring you, Hermione, Aurelian and Scorpius back to England at my earliest convenience."

Narcissa shook her head, a little of her frosty demeanour melting away as she thought of how brave and selfless her son had been.

"Astoria, I am uncertain of. She was in surgery when I spoke to the healers about the curse Dolohov had used on her. They refused to allow me into the room, but I believe she would be in a very bad way. Antonin Dolohov is not known for his mercy or his patience. He'd have done truly unspeakable things to that girl – such things that would make a quiet death in the hospital a mercy. If she lives through this, she will never be the same – never be right again. He doesn't just enjoy violation and torture, our Dolohov. He likes to worm his way inside their heads. He kept that girl prisoner for days, tormenting her, trying to break her. He likes to bring other down to his level. Should she survive… well… let's just say that a restraining order might become necessary."

Wendy's eyes widened in shock at the very suggestion and Narcissa shrugged her slim shoulders. She was tired and she was more than ready to return to the Manor so that she could shower off the events of the days since she'd been arrested.

Turning away from the muggle woman once more, Narcissa's heels clicked on the marble floors of the mansion as she made her way to the potions laboratory. When she reached the door, she found it locked and warded, but a few jabs of her wand undid the enchantments.

Hermione Granger looked manic when Narcissa unlocked the door and pushed it open. Her riot of curls was frizzing out of control and there was a look in her eyes that warned against getting too close.

"Wendy?" Narcissa asked, her wand still in her hand as she eyed the witch who'd lifted her gaze to Narcissa's without blinking, looking rather like a wild animal waiting to pounce. "Why don't you be a dear and round up the boys? We'll be leaving shortly. Chandy?"

The elf appeared with a pop and gasped in horror at the mess within the lab before beginning to cluck her tongue, tsking the young woman for daring to make such a mess.

"Mistress?" Chandy asked.

"Pack everyone's things," Narcissa said. "We're leaving."

The elf nodded, disappearing to set about her task, but not before throwing another disgusted look at the lab.

"But…" Wendy began, obviously worried about her daughter.

Narcissa closed the door in her face before she could continue.

"You look a fright, Miss Granger," Narcissa informed the mudblood girl she had grown so fond of in recent years.

Hermione didn't say anything, though she did break her unnerving stare to add something to a potion she was brewing, dropping what looked like an entire bat's wing into the mixture and causing a small, controlled explosion.

"What are you going here?" Hermione asked, forgoing the manners she usually displayed.

"Bringing you home," Narcissa said. "Astoria has been rescued, and Dolohov has been apprehended."

"I saw," Hermione nodded slowly, and Narcissa wasn't sure she liked the way the other woman's mouth twisted bitterly.

"The paper?" Narcissa guessed, knowing Draco's picture had been plastered across the cover as he cradled a broken Astoria and shouldered the weight of Britain's Head Auror as the Saviour of Wizarding Britain dragged the half-dead body of an escaped Death Eater in his wake.

Hermione nodded again, tipping her head to one side and regarding her with all the cool detachment Narcissa had once seen on the face of Fenrir Greyback when he'd regarded her son. A shiver ran down her spine. It was an unsettling sort of focus caught somewhere between intrigue, distaste, and a vicious urge to lash out.

She'd never liked it from the werewolf, and she liked it even less from Hermione.

"You are… upset about it?" Narcissa guessed, frowning a little as she regarded the girl warily.

There was definitely something wrong with her, and a strong Calming Draught might be in order.

"What's to be upset about?" she asked detachedly. "I assume they all still live?"

"I believe they do," Narcissa nodded.

"That's a shame…" Hermione said quietly, and Narcissa hoped very much that the witch was referring to Dolohov, alone, and not to anyone else within the party that had featured on the front cover of the newspaper.

"I'm sure that once Potter regains his full strength, he will be determined to wring a good many truths out of Dolohov regarding his numerous crimes before he will be administer the Dementor's Kiss, or perhaps simply receive the Killing Curse," Narcissa explained quietly, knowing the man would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law before they would even consider killing him. He would be forced under Veritaserum to reveal the truth of every misdeed he'd ever done before he'd be put to death, no matter his attempt on an Auror's life.

"Oh, I know," Hermione nodded, her eyes leaving Narcissa's face. "But they can't kill him yet… I need him."

"Yet you just said it was a shame he still lives," Narcissa pointed out, very much hoping that was what the girl meant.

Hermione sighed heavily, her shoulders hunching a little.

"Yes, well," she said. "It's a shame he lives because now I will have to talk to him."

"About what, might I ask?" Narcissa raised one eyebrow, never lowering her wand lest the girl be lulling her into a false sense of security.

"I…" Hermione frowned. "I know I seem… manic," she said quietly. "In truth, I  _feel_  manic."

Narcissa waited for her to go on, knowing the witch wasn't one to leave a conversation unfinished and a topic open in such a manner.

"I had to barricade myself in," she whispered hoarsely. "I wanted to…"

She mimed strangling something invisible and Narcissa lifted her wand a little more.

"It's the effects of the virus," she went on. "It's progressed. My headaches and tiredness were only precursors. Ginny grew needy, and Astoria grew whiny and simpering in the later stages. I thought, because the expression of those things is similar, that the emotional state of the witch was simply engorged and that I too might grow weepy and pathetic."

"You have not?" Narcissa guessed.

"The virus is much more insidious," Hermione explained quietly. "It strips away estrogen levels, which cause some of those symptoms, but it also eats away at the fundamental parts of a witch's magic where it's tied to her emotional… strength."

"Meaning?" Narcissa asked, trying not to grow impatient but wanting rather desperately to just go home.

"Meaning the personality traits we each hold at our very core become more easily accessible and exposed," Hermione explained. "And while Ginny has always craved attention and love and been desperate for Harry to want her, and I suspect Astoria has always been a whiny little swot, the effect on me has… uncovered the ruthless and cold-hearted bitch I can be at my very core. The witch who cursed a piece of parchment to disfigure whomever might betray me; the witch who stood idly by and did nothing to stop centaurs from making off with an admittedly vile woman– the witch who encouraged such a fate for that old toad, in fact, even knowing they were intent on raping her – she's the person I am at my core. Someone cruel and wicked and prone to exacting revenge on those who've wronged me."

"The children and your mother have surely never wronged you, Hermione," Narcissa said. "And in any case, I can scarcely see what that has to do with Dolohov."

"His ancestors created the virus," Hermione said quietly. "I've been… examining the blood of the afflicted."

Narcissa noticed the bruising, bloodstains and track marks lining Hermione's inner elbow when she turned her arm and regarded it with morbid fascination.

"I remembered seeing something I couldn't account for when I initially discovered the virus," Hermione explained. "Back when it was just the fairies who were afflicted, years ago, I kept coming across a magical pattern – a signature within the virus of it's maker. I thought, when I began testing my own blood, that it was affecting me more profoundly as a result of the excessive presence of that signature within my blood."

"I'm not following, Miss Granger," Narcissa said impatiently.

She'd excelled at Potions in school because the interaction of magical substances made sense to her. Chemistry, she understood. Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures – those subjects relying more on biology – had been her downfall.

Hermione slowly dipped a phial into the cauldron and filled it.

"The signature was more obvious in my blood because I've been cursed by Dolohov before," Hermione explained, pulling up the front of her shirt with her free hand to reveal the purple starburst of scarring on her chest where Dolohov had cured her during their shenanigans at the Department of Mysteries so many years ago.

"And you need to speak with him as a result?" Narcissa frowned.

"I do," Hermione said before lifting the phial of potion she'd concocted to her lips and gulping in down quickly.

Narcissa gasped, looking on in concern when the girl began to shudder and tremble like she was having a fit.

"What did you just take?" Narcissa demanded, advancing on the girl when her knees buckled and she dropped the phial to the floor where it shattered while Hermione grabbed for the table, trying to keep her balance

"Antidote," Hermione panted. "The antidote I made for the fairies when the virus swept through them. I had to guess the dosage of a lot of the ingredients to counteract differing metabolism, species, and size."

Narcissa would've slapped the witch for a fool had Hermione not suddenly gone cross-eyed before keeling over backward and cracking her head on the bench behind her as she lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a novel! A real one. And I published it on Amazon. Check out my profile page, or google "PARANORMAL DIVISION: AWAKENING BY ELLIE J DUCK" for details and the link to purchase. xx


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